#Abuse #BDSM #Rape #Teen
Penultimate part of the story of Edward Pembroke’s slavery business
Khadija could not believe the horrific nightmare she had been plunged into. She thought of her family and how she had betrayed them, going behind their backs for a date with another girl, something they would have told her was unclean, dirty, heathen. Now she couldn’t ask for help even if she wanted to. Was this her punishment from God?
She remembered the feeling of euphoric anticipation walking to the bowling alley, her heart racing with excitement. But then, nothing but pain and discomfort and blackness until she was taken out of her tiny prison. She was stretched out, naked, on a plane, looking out at the clouds through the windows. Who on earth were these brutal men?
An evil-looking thug had pulled her out, naked, and thrown her on the floor of the small plane, deserted but for him and the pilot. He slapped her, then ran his hands and even his mouth all over her, every inch of her body, when no man had ever seen her naked.
Dmitri, Nadim, and then the monstrous appearance of Jamal had terrified her, but Khadija’s nightmare expanded when she was shown the complex and the horrible visages of Jamal and Mrs. Al-Haraz, both scarred and disfigured. Mrs. Al-Haraz wore a leather corset that pushed up her breasts and barely covered them, fishnet stockings, and stiletto heels that clicked ominously on the floor. Half her face and head were a morass of burned flesh, vainly made up with garish makeup and lipstick.
Mrs. Al-Haraz approached her with a twisted smile, leering at her trembling, naked body. “Welcome to your new home, you filthy little lesbian,” she hissed. “You’ll learn your place here very quickly.”
Khadija was pushed into the hall to view the clear glass cell in which all the female slaves were kept. She was astonished at the sight and the surprised yet resigned faces of the beautiful girls inside.
“Here, you will get all the pussy you crave, you fucking pervert,” Mrs. Al-Haraz whispered into her ear, trailing her tongue along Khadija’s earlobe, making the poor girl shudder.
Outside the cell stood a friendlier-looking blonde woman, offset by her lewd outfit. She wore a one-piece bodysuit,, which clung to her buxom figure. Looking to be in her forties, she had a seductive smile and an air of faux kindness. She was patting an examination table with straps.
“Hello, dear, it must have been traumatic for you; it always is with you girls,” she cooed, her voice syrupy sweet. “Come on, hop up and let’s get that hair off your body and have you marked, my lovely.”
Khadija’s legs felt weak as she approached the table, her mind reeling from the surreal horror of her situation. The blonde woman’s hands were surprisingly gentle as she helped Khadija onto the table, but the straps that quickly secured her limbs told another story. The mix of false tenderness and cold efficiency was terrifying.
“That’s it, dear,” the woman said, running her fingers through Khadija’s hair before moving to her body, “Let’s make you ready for your new life.”
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While Khadija was being groomed and prepared in the hall in front of the other girls, Clare was having her own preparation, with both Konrad and Nadim sharing her in an orgy of violent depravity.
Clare barely remembered anything after midnight. She recalled laughing about the suicide note, reminding herself to get rid of it as soon as she got home.
After that were snippets: a man at the club, a park, being in a tight confined space, and suddenly sobering up to find herself crouched in a tight coil, her hands bound behind her back, ankles tied, and a gag down her throat. She couldn’t move, see, or hear properly.
Finally, there was an explosion of light, and her tired limbs were stretched out. She was in daylight, on a plane, with just one passenger, an ugly, thuggish-looking man with a Russian accent. He responded to each of her muffled pleas with a slap to the face and a laugh.
She was naked, still bound, and had been laid on the floor of the plane. The man had taken off his own clothes and thrown himself on top of her. He had pulled her bound ankles up in the air as she was on her back, exposing her obscenely, as he massaged his lurid cock in front of her and plunged inside her. The pain and the inability to breathe properly had made her think she would have a heart attack as his cock sliced into her, pushing her insides apart. All the while, the thug just leered at her like a hungry dog on heat.
Konrad had enjoyed Miriam’s body in the time they had spent together, but he was eager to have access to a new white body. He devoured her pale flesh with his teeth, ignoring her cries and whimpers. He bit into her toes and fingers, as if laying his claim on virgin snow.
Nadim’s eyes and hands had gone straight to her toned buttocks, admiring her willowy figure and relatively narrow, boyish hips. His hands ran along the backs of her thighs and her lower spine before meeting in a mash of her flesh. He squeezed her buttocks between his palms, admiring the texture and firmness, then splayed them apart to reveal the reddened holes between them. Without hesitation, he buried his face in them, running his tongue along the crack and into any crevices he could find, savoring the taste.
“Nooo! Please help! Where … where am I! What is going on? Help! HELP!” Clare screamed, her hands free as she desperately tried to slap Nadim away from between her legs and push Konrad away from biting her extremities. They ignored her pleas until she grabbed Konrad’s hair. He gripped her wrist, forced it down, and squeezed his hand around her throat.
“Don’t stop us from doing anything to you, okay? I want to fuck and eat you, little bitch. Just cooperate and let me enjoy you!” His eyes were wild, boggled like a madman’s.
Clare tried to resist, but Konrad’s grip tightened around her throat, cutting off her breath. She gurgled, the lack of oxygen intensifying the sensations from Nadim’s tongue inside her pussy, sending tremors through her body. It felt as if his tongue had snaked its way inside her, all the way along her spinal column to her brain.
“If you want to breathe, then use your mouth properly,” Konrad growled, standing over her. He grabbed her hair and positioned himself above her, forcing his cock into her mouth. He thrust deeper, filling her mouth and pushing past her tonsils into her esophagus. He felt the bulge in her throat and delighted in the change of color on her face to almost that of her red hair, her eyes widening in panic. A hissing noise escaped her as her windpipe was blocked, her desperate attempts to breathe only adding to his twisted pleasure.
Dmitri felt her asshole loosen around his fingers as her body surrendered to Konrad’s violation of her throat and the lack of oxygen. Taking advantage, he hurriedly thrust his manhood inside her preferred hole and began pumping vigorously.
Konrad continued to thrust in and out of her throat, easing out just enough to let saliva bubble out of her mouth and allow her to gasp for air. Clare had never experienced such a rough fuck as this—two massive cocks pumping in and out of her holes at either end of her body. She could barely even feel her arms and legs let alone use them to fight the invaders off.
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Khadija’s heart raced as the painful electrolysis worked its way over her body. The blonde woman patiently continued, humming to herself. From inside the cell to the side, there was murmuring and whispering as the gaggle of female prisoners pressed against the perspex glass walls, gazing out at the new meat.
“Now, darling, before I turn you over, I’m going to give you a little tattoo,” Mrs. Parker smiled at her. “A little mark that the rest of the girls have, to signify your new life here. Then you can have a toilet break, and we’ll move on to hair removal on the back of your body.”
“Wh-what? No, I don’t want a tattoo! I don’t belong here, I just want to go home. My family will be looking for me. I cannot get a tattoo; it won’t come off!”
“That’s the idea,” said Mrs. Parker, stroking her cheek consolingly. “I’m sorry, I’m sure your family will be looking for you and will miss you very much. But this new life, this is forever. The tattoo means you belong to the Master. No matter who owns you in the future, it signifies that this is how you came to be a slave and where you were trained.”
“What? I am not a slave, I don’t … I just wanted to meet someone!”
“So I heard,” winked Mrs. Parker. “That was rather naughty, but if it’s any consolation, there will be plenty of opportunities during your stay here to play with other girls.”
“NO! I’m not some pervert! I’m not that kind of girl, I don’t belong here!”
“Khadija, you are young and beautiful, and you have been kidnapped. You are precisely the kind of girl who belongs here, I’m afraid. Now, please calm down; this attitude is getting a little tiring,” sighed Mrs. Parker.
The older woman tightened the binds around Khadija’s arm and wrist, rendering them completely immobile. She then took out a large gag, wrapped it around Khadija’s head, and plugged it into her mouth to prevent any distractions.
With precision, the symbol “ب П P” was worked onto the inside of her wrist. Khadija cried as she watched the tattoo needle deposit its permanent ink into her skin, marking her forever. The realization hit her that her family might already have disowned her after everything that had happened.
Mrs. Parker released Khadija to go to the toilet, but she refused to go in front of all the other girls and Mrs. Parker. “Now, now, silly girl. Privacy is a thing of the past, Khadija. Just do it, and then I will clean your insides.”
Khadija, running her fingers over her tattoo and her smooth, hairless skin, couldn’t handle this further humiliation. “NO! I WANT out of here!” She pushed Mrs. Parker down and ran to the hall door, but it was shut.
“Khadija,” sighed Mrs. Parker, “you are going to get yourself punished.” Mrs. Parker pressed a button, and within minutes, Konrad entered, furious that his time with Clare had been disrupted. He was naked, sweating, his cock swinging and pointing up towards his chin in erection.
Khadija watched, frozen in fear, as if a monster were approaching. She couldn’t speak as Konrad grabbed her by the hair and slapped her. “You will obey Mrs. Parker!”
“Khadija,” Mrs. Parker said firmly, “you will pee and empty your bowels and clean yourself with this.” She pointed to a dildo-shaped showerhead attached to a bidet. “Or I will do it for you, and if I have to do it, I will let Mr. Fischer put that large thing between his legs straight up your bottom afterward, and it will hurt. So please, do it yourself!”
Khadija stared at the ground, her face burning with humiliation, as she went through her ablutions. Mrs. Parker stood to the side, arms folded, not enjoying the situation either. “Make sure you stick it right up your ass, Khadija,” she instructed, her back turned. “I will be sticking my fingers inside afterward, and you will lick them clean, so no excuses!”
“Finished?” she asked the girl.
“Y—yes.”
“Call me Madam or Madam Parker, OK?” she said curtly.
“Yes, Madam Parker.”
“Is your ass nice and clean?” Mrs. Parker approached her, her eyes steady on the huge eyes of the younger girl. She wrapped her arms around Khadija, planted both hands on her buttocks, and let a hand drift into her crack. An index finger wormed its way into her wet asshole, digging inside, provoking a frown on the girl. Then she brought it out and to her lips and sucked it clean.
“Good girl,” Mrs. Parker smiled. “Now, why don’t you get back on the table, and let’s get you finished!”
________________________________________
Hours later, Clare and Khadija languished in the cell with the other girls, both now silky smooth, branded, and, in the case of Clare, brutally raped countless times.
“Why don’t you girls resist? Why do you sit here and do nothing if you are prisoners?” Clare screamed at them.
“Please be quiet,” Elira spoke firmly to her. She fingered her collar, aware that their collective word limit would soon expire. “We are slaves. We are not permitted to talk about things like that.”
Clare looked around for allies. “What the hell? You have been kidnapped. Your families must be looking for you. We can get out of here if we work together; we just need a plan!”
“Listen, you loudmouth,” Kasia angrily responded. “We have been here a lot longer than you. There is no escape from here. I haven’t been punished in weeks, and I don’t intend to get a beating because of you, so shut your mouth!”
“I know it’s tough, but you cannot give up hope. That’s what they are doing, fucking with your minds. We outnumber them. We can escape if we plan something.”
“We do not disobey the Master here!” Amina stared at Clare coldly. “We obey him. It’s the only way. If you behave, you will not be punished, and you will be sold to a good owner. You just have to accept it.”
Clare sat back, defeated and baffled. “Who is this fucking Master anyway? Who runs this place?”
“Please do not curse the Master’s name!” Elira felt genuinely offended. “You would not dare do it in his presence. I do not want to hear you disrespect him.”
“I don’t even know who he is. You fucking slaves,” Clare was baffled.
Most of the girls were cold, a few threw sympathetic glances. Lucy, the American brunette, just looked at her sadly, without saying anything. There really was no hope here.
Khadija sat, her legs crossed and holding her breasts, trying to preserve some modesty and flinching when she touched another girl. Despite her sexuality, there was nothing enticing about being among the naked girls in this horrific environment. One girl, however, intrigued her. Her face looked familiar, but her naked body, marred with bruises, teeth marks, and scratch marks, was not. Miriam had borne the brunt of Konrad’s affections for weeks while being used with the AI to entice Khadija and others.
Khadija nervously kept meeting her eyes across the cell. Could this be the girl who, until just over a day ago, had been the dream of her life? The realization sent a shiver down her spine.
Gathering her courage, Khadija slowly inched closer to the girl, her heart pounding. “Miriam?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Miriam’s eyes were the same as Khadija had seen countless times, and her voice was familiar, but her tone and expression were different—cold and detached. “Khadija, they forced me to say things, and the rest they used a computer to change what I said and my facial expressions. It is not my fault you are here.”
“But … you are real. What happened?” Khadija asked, her voice trembling.
“They tricked you, for weeks, for maybe a month,” Miriam replied, looking at her coldly. “I am innocent. I did nothing wrong. I am here because my cousin disobeyed and disrespected the Master, and I was taken as revenge. I should be with my family,” her eyes watered. “You, you chose to chase after another girl in the outside world, like a dirty lesbian. I have nothing in common with you. The things that you said, I don’t want to hear them in here, okay? Stay away from me.”
Khadija nodded slowly, backing away, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling utterly alone and broken.
Sometime later, Mrs. Parker and Mrs. Al-Haraz came in with food. For Khadija and Clare, it would be a new and humiliating experience, eating out of a bowl without using their hands, like animals. Their overseers swung their canes, ready to enforce discipline.
“Mealtime, ladies,” Mrs. Al-Haraz shouted. “I hope you have explained the rules to these new bitches. You eat on your hands and knees, no hands, straight from the bowl, and you lick it clean, along with the face of your partner afterward. Failure to follow the rules means I hit you with this.” She struck the wall with the cane, making every girl jump, and then cackled.
“Just water for you, Efua,” Mrs. Parker approached the Ghanaian girl and patted her on the head as she got to her knees in front of her bowl. “I have some exciting news—you have been sold to a new owner. You should be shipped out tomorrow, so your fast will start now. Enjoy your last night with your friends, and good luck in your new life with your new owner! I cannot tell you much, but the Master has explained that you should be spending less time in your box than 18 hours this time!” She affectionately kissed Efua on the lips and walked along the line. Efua looked lost, shocked, and shellshocked while the others bent down to eat and drink.
“Efua, get down and drink!” Mrs. Al-Haraz struck her on her bottom, snapping her out of her daze. Efua bent down and drank from her water bowl, wondering about her new life.
Mrs. Parker crouched down beside her as she knelt with her face in the bowl, stroking her body from her dreadlocked hair up her spine and around her buttocks, admiring her coal-black skin. She gently placed her palms under Efua’s breasts, cupping them softly.
“After the meal, I will make a final check on your body for any stray hairs, Efua,” Mrs. Parker whispered. “And then we will go through a few things you will be expected to do and say, as agreed between the Master and your new owner.”
________________________________________
Traveling for work was not all it was cracked up to be, thought Edward Pembroke. Despite the luxurious surroundings of the Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo in Monaco, he felt the strain of sleepless nights and constant stress.
The plush environment of the hotel lobby was a stark contrast to his current state of fatigue. He was hard at work on his laptop, scrutinizing reports, messages, and plans, his mind racing with the demands of his job.
Mr. Lorkov, whom Pembroke had spoken with in Azmaria months prior, was now chasing him for a suitable girl. Pembroke had tried marketing his existing product range, but Mr. Lorkov was insistent on the particular girl he had in mind. Pembroke spent more time reviewing her information—social media, maps, details about her family, friends, and workplace. While he didn’t want to admit he was stuck, he also didn’t want to lose the reputation he was gaining as a miracle worker among a particularly wealthy and depraved section of society.
Taking a break, Pembroke reviewed the information on Linh Nguyen and Ayesha Rahman. The Van Stantons, a demanding, if fictional, family, were meticulous about the details of the girls’ pasts. As well as the information provided by Kaitlin, Pembroke was pleased to note that Konrad had obtained past photos of their prostitution activities. While he found the hiring of ex-prostitutes a bit of a cheat and against his brand of only procuring nice, decent girls, he had to admit that these girls were young and had been forced into prostitution at an even younger age, completely against their will.
In addition, he had to acknowledge that the Akhmadova sisters had been a tremendous hit with Mr. Mishra. The feedback on them had been excellent, although Pembroke had found it difficult to have his dinner while reading it due to the distasteful nature of some of the details.
It was questionable whether the Zephyr truly needed two female staff members, and highly doubtful that it was a safe working environment for two young, pretty women vulnerable to sex trafficking. However, the opportunity for a relatively straightforward double acquisition and onward transport was too good to pass up.
Kaitlin’s insistence on secrecy about her involvement in the girls’ illegal employment had helped ease Pembroke’s concerns and confirmed his determination to disrupt her long-planned holiday to Egypt with her niece Lila. He shared Kaitlin’s palpable excitement about her trip to Egypt, though for entirely different reasons. Looking at the options, it was a case of going for four products at once or none.
When he considered how Kaitlin had marketed herself to him for months, offering the two unfortunate girls to him on a silver platter, and how Lila had been rather ostentatiously dangled in front of the respected surgeon Mr. Ivanov, he felt it would be cruel to his clients and an affront to his business and sense of adventure to turn down these opportunities. It would, however, require considerable planning, and a bit of luck to pull it off.
He then returned to his further item of business and the reason he was in Monaco. Mr. Carnot had not responded to his email, so he gave him a quick call to check on him.
“Ah, hello, Mr. Pembroke,” Clémence’s voice sounded hoarse. “I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten back to you. I’ve had some issues at home, but do not worry, I will email the customs department, and there should be no repeat of their holding up your products in Monaco tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you, Clémence. Please call me Edward from now on; you have been such a help.”
“Oh, thank you, Edward. I normally prefer to stick to formalities, but … well, in the circumstances, and since you have been such a … friend over the last week, perhaps it is refreshing to be able to call you Edward.”
“Clémence,” Pembroke spoke gently, “is there anything wrong? You sound a little upset.”
There was a silence.
“Edward, it’s Clare. She never came home on Tuesday night. It wasn’t totally unexpected, but she just … never came back at all…”
“Oh, my goodness,” Pembroke replied. “Have you checked with the police?”
“Yes! And … when I finally checked her room … I found … a suicide note.” Clémence’s voice broke, and Pembroke heard sobbing on the other end of the line.
“My God, Clémence, do you think she had … done something?”
“I don’t know,” said Clémence. “She seemed to have blamed me and all her family for her woes. I don’t understand it; we did everything for that girl. But the police cannot find her. We have searched everywhere. She left her phone at home. We just know that she was last seen leaving a nightclub with a young man.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like suicide then,” Pembroke said. “Heavens, have they interviewed this young man?”
“I have just found out,” Clémence spat down the phone angrily, “that they traced him to his family’s house, and they say they don’t know where he is. And then, just a few hours after interviewing his family, they found out he had flown out of the country to Algeria.”
“Goodness,” said Pembroke. “My, that sounds suspicious. Are you sure he is the only suspect though?”
“We don’t know,” Clémence sounded like he was in despair. “There is the suicide note, and this man disappearing—nothing makes sense.”
“Clémence, you should have told me,” Pembroke sounded unhappy. “Please, it does not matter if our shipment gets delayed. If you need time to…”
“No, Edward!” Clémence seemed to be regaining his composure. “My work is my life, and I will make sure I get your package through efficiently. It’s not just that though,” he sounded furious now. “I cannot help but think if those policemen who were holding you up at that airport, spending hours there wanting to inspect boxes of animal feed, if they had been doing proper police work, they might have been there to find my Clare and stop … whatever it is that happened! They can let any of these people in and out of the country, but they waste the time of a law-abiding man like you. It makes me apoplectic!”
“Yes,” said Pembroke, “it does occur to me that police resources might be better turned elsewhere.”
“And that is why I will make sure that your package does not get held up by these useless policemen, Edward. I can only throw myself into my work or obsess about where Clare is!”
“I am so very thankful, Clémence,” Pembroke meant it. “Please, if there is anything I can do to help or assist with the search for Clare, I would be more than grateful to be able to help!”
“Thank you, Edward, that means a lot,” Clémence’s voice broke again. “Well, sorry, I must go. I need to finish this work for you in time for the shipment!”
“Thank you Clémence, God bless.”
Despite his sympathy for Mr Carnot, he could not help but be a little disappointed in his constant racism. He had also been a little disappointed in Mr Reza’s rather racist, as well as lewd, commentary on what he wished to do with Efua once he had her in his possession.
Nevertheless he felt better having the formidable legal mind of Carnot supporting Efua’s imminent transfer to her new life as Reza’s slave, while the money that Reza had paid him for Efua served as a balm for Pembroke’s sadness over the fact that such prejudice still existed in modern times.
“Come on, you lesbian whore,” Mrs. Al-Haraz hissed at Khadija, her voice tinged with both disgust and palpable lust. From within the cell, the other naked inmates watched through the glass wall. They observed as Khadija knelt before Miriam, who was lying on her back in front of her at the very heart of the spacious hall. Mrs. Al-Haraz, in stark contrast as the only one fully clothed, donned a vivid deep red thong bikini complemented by matching strappy high heels. In her hand, she brandished a lightweight cord whip, using it to coax the newcomer to engage more intimately with the beautiful Moroccan teenager lying down vulnerably before her, her legs invitingly parted.v
“You fantasized about Miriam, sneaked away from your family to pursue your desires with her. Why hesitate now?” Mrs. Al-Haraz bent down, laughter dripping with mockery as she stared into Khadija’s face. “We’ve seen all your messages. The Master kept us well-informed about the foolish girl, all wrapped up in her filthy dreams, soon to join us here. You’ve truly disgraced your family.” As Mrs. Al-Haraz paused, biting her lip, a new taunt formed. “Just imagine if the Master shared your messages with Miriam with your family and friends. Perhaps he already has, to justify your mysterious disappearance. Think of their shame!”
The messages had indeed been uncovered. Khadija’s family, unable to accept the notion that she had ever gone to Paris, had instead fueled a local Muslim mob’s rage. The misinformation and their refusal to believe the truth led to a violent attack on an LGBT center in Brussels, under the mistaken belief that she had been seduced by the gay people living there. The center was burned to the ground, killing two people inside, a tragic consequence of their misguided anger and the broader tensions within the community.
Tears streamed down Khadija’s cheeks, splashing off her breasts as the harsh reality of Mrs. Al-Haraz’s words sank in. The thought that her family would first be shattered by her disappearance and then by the public disclosure of her secret lesbian affair was unbearable. She imagined them wishing she were dead rather than face the scandal. She felt like the architect of her own downfall, perhaps even deserving of her fate. Yet, as she gazed at Miriam—naked and exposed—she felt no desire. What she had wanted was to hold Miriam’s hands, perhaps share a kiss, not this forced lewd exhibitionism devoid of any affection. It was the antithesis of love.
“Come on, Khadija, it’s okay,” Mrs. Al-Haraz whispered into her ear, her tongue briefly and “accidentally” grazing her earlobe. “You’re in the right place here. I like pussy myself,” she confessed. Khadija flinched as she felt the Yemeni woman’s hand slip under her and gently stroke her bare undercarriage. “And Miriam is so pretty, there’s no shame here. You’re here to please your Master, and he wants this to happen. You might not see any other women after you are sold, so you should enjoy the pussy here.”
“And if you don’t start licking between her legs now,” Mrs. Al-Haraz stood back, her tone sharp, “I will start whipping Miriam’s breasts. You said in your messages that you’d do anything for her, so it’s time to live up to that. You don’t want to see your girlfriend in pain, right?” Mrs. Al-Haraz let the whip dangle and tickle along Miriam’s torso, savoring the ripple of discomfort across her taut stomach. “So come on, Khadija, don’t be selfish.”
Khadija moved forward reluctantly on her hands and knees, positioning herself between Miriam’s legs. Despite her orientation, she had never truly contemplated the intimate details of another girl’s body. Like her, Miriam was hairless, the delicate contours of her vagina subtle yet distinct. As Khadija drew closer, a strong musky scent filled her nostrils. Her lips met the soft, fleshy folds, and she hesitantly extended her tongue, tracing the intricate textures. With each tentative lick, the taste grew more pronounced—a sharp, almost bitter flavor that intensified as the area became increasingly moist.
Miriam lay back like a lifeless doll. She had been eaten and licked so often down there, much more vigorously, that this was noting. At least it was not Konrad sinking his teeth into her insides.
“You will not get away with this!” Clare’s voice shattered the silence as she banged furiously on the glass wall. “I will make you all pay for this!” At the other end of the hall, Jamal and Pembroke sat, largely detached from the unfolding scene. Jamal distracted himself with cards, while Pembroke reviewed documents on his laptop, barely glancing at the performance. Clare’s outburst drew a sigh from Pembroke, who, though reluctant, knew he had to maintain order.
“Jamal, if you please,” Pembroke said calmly, his eyes not leaving the screen. “I believe she’s not fond of snakes.”
Jamal stood, a grim resolve in his posture, and approached the cell. “Do you want to shut up and be quiet, or should I make things worse for you?” he threatened.
“Come on then, do your worst! Be a big man and hit a woman,” Clare screamed defiantly at the giant deformed Syrian before her. “I’m not afraid of you, and I won’t be your slave! Next time you put your cock in my mouth I will bite it off!”
Pembroke cleared his throat, drawing the anxious gazes of the other women to him, the true authority in the room. “I’m afraid, Clare, you need to respect us and your fellow slaves,” he stated firmly. “It is unpleasant for the other girls to hear such disruptions to the order of things.”
Jamal opened the door of the cell, easily deflecting the punches and kicks from Clare, and grabbed her by the hair as the other girls quickly moved to the side of the cell. He dragged her out, her feet barely touching the ground as she screamed, until they reached a rectangular box covered with an Arabic carpet. With one hand, he flung off the carpet, still holding Clare by her hair, her feet swinging in the air. Inside the box, four grass snakes hissed and writhed, suddenly exposed to the light and agitated by the commotion.
“NOOOO! FUUUCKK!” Clare erupted into a frenzy, thrashing wildly in Jamal’s grip, her words dissolving into sheer terror. Jamal paused and glanced at Pembroke for guidance.
Pembroke weighed the options before him. Granting Clare one final chance crossed his mind, yet the opportunity to observe the psychological impact of such an ordeal intrigued him. Understanding that threats lose their weight unless occasionally enforced, he made his decision with a solemn nod to Jamal.
Jamal acted swiftly, delivering a sharp punch to Clare’s stomach that silenced her cries as it knocked the wind out of her. With Clare subdued and limp, he gripped her more firmly with one hand. Then, with a swift movement, he lifted the lid of the snake-filled box. Carefully, he slid the stunned Clare inside beside the hissing grass snakes and quickly sealed the lid. The glass walls of the box allowed everyone in the room to witness the horrible scene as the snakes slithered around the terrified teenager.
Several of the girls in the cell refused to look, and gripped their friends and partners, sobing into their arms.
“Khadija, make Miriam cum and I will release Clare” Pembroke shouted out to the two on the floor.
Amidst the chaos, Pembroke’s voice cut through the heavy air, his command aimed at Khadija who was still on the floor with Miriam. “Khadija, make Miriam come and I will release Clare,” he declared loudly.
Khadija, overwhelmed by the grotesque spectacle, burst into tears. After a brief hesitation, driven by desperation, she returned to her task between Miriam’s legs, licking fervently, almost frantically. She moved her tongue up and down with all the force and speed she could muster, grateful that this position spared her from witnessing Clare’s torment.
Meanwhile, Clare, having recovered somewhat from the stomach punch, regained her breath and began to scream wildly within the glass box. She pounded helplessly against the walls, her panic intensifying as the grass snakes slithered over and around her, occasionally rearing up to hiss directly into her eyes. Her screams, piercing and barely human, echoed hauntingly around the hall.
Pembroke winced at the screams which barely made him able to think. He shouted out to Miriam. “Miriam, get into a 69 with Khadija and show her how it is done, if either of you cum, Clare will be released.”
Miriam, grateful to be able to save the girl, quickly shifted her position. With determination, she pulled Khadija into a sideways 69, embracing her firmly. Miriam’s hands gripped Khadija’s buttocks, pulling her close as she buried her face between Khadija’s legs. She began with fervent tonguing, then progressed to skillfully finger Khadija while simultaneously stimulating her with her tongue. Finally, Miriam ran her index finger over Khadija’s exposed clitoris, in a desperate bid to secure Clare’s release.
Despite the sight of the screaming Clare intertwined with the snakes, which now framed Khadija’s view between Miriam’s thighs, she could not help but sigh from the glowing warmth emanating from between her own legs.
Her eyes met with Clare’s and their expressions similar but different. Clare’s eyes and mouth were hopen with screaming and terror as a snake hissed between her own legs within the box. Khadija’s eyes and mouth were opena dn screaming in joy as Miriam finally produced a stream of squirting fluid from her vagina.
As Khadija was caught in the throes of ecstasy, her eyes locked with Clare’s in a poignant, stark contrast of experiences. Clare’s face was distorted by terror, her mouth wide open as she screamed in fear, a snake hissing menacingly close between her legs within the confines of the glass box. In stark contrast, Khadija’s own mouth was open in a scream of joy as Miriam’s mouth ate between her own legs. Khadija experienced a squirting orgasm, splashing over Miriam’s face and into the air.
“Well done, Miriam! Hurrah!” Pembroke exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval as Jamal swiftly opened the lid of the snake box. He grabbed Clare by the hair, controlling her as she scrambled out in a frantic rush. Holding her back to prevent her escape, Jamal quickly shut the lid on the still-slithering snakes and threw the carpet back over the box. Clare, visibly shaken, shivered uncontrollably and muttered incoherently as if speaking in tongues. Jamal directed her back towards the cell, where the other inmates shrank away, visibly disturbed by her babbling and disheveled state.
“Now, Khadija, Miriam has proven herself a heroine today, so I think she deserves a reward, don’t you?” Pembroke suggested with a wink, addressing the still dazed Khadija as she recovered from her own intense climax, her pussy glistening with juices as she lay back legs splayed.
Khadija, understanding the gesture and perhaps eager to reciprocate the relief Miriam had granted her earlier, nodded in agreement. She obediently returned to the position they had been in before, as Miriam lay back down, ready to receive her due. Inspired by the techniques Miriam had expertly used on her, Khadija employed both her fingers and tongue to return the favor.
As Khadija and Miriam continued, Pembroke returned to his task. He resumed reviewing a detailed list on his laptop, each entry hyperlinked to extensive profiles of his products. These profiles included photos, videos, details of their capture, and background information on their families, with special attention to any attractive female relatives. He reviewed the list with satisfaction.
Charlotte Spencer – sold Dilan Talebani – sold Elena Petrova – sold Anna Gao – sold Camille LeClerc – sold Ingrid Johansen – sold Freja Johansen – sold Fatima Al-Tayeb- sold Sabine Muller – sold Sophie Candelema – sold Cassie Johnson – sold Holly Streatham – sold Natalia Akhmadova – sold Tatiana Akhmadova – sold Gal Avraham – sold Afshan Malik – sold Efua Agyeman – sold
Yasmina Benyoussef – product reserved
Samira Al-Tayeb – for sale Miriam Ben Ali – for sale Kasia Kowalska – for sale Amina Khattak – for sale Farah Khattak – for sale Nadia Mansouri – for sale Francesca Greco – for sale Lucy Seratova – for sale Elira Dervishi – for sale Rania Darwish – for sale Clare Carnot – for sale Khadija Amrani – for sale
Zara Al-Tayeb – deceased
Pembroke smiled as he read another email from Clémence Carnot. To preempt any future impersonations by “those damn Arabs,” he had updated his LinkedIn with a profile picture. Looking forward to printing it out, he planned to place it along the top walls of the girls’ cell, alongside images of Clare’s family members. These images served as a stark reminder to the girls that he could easily reach out and affect the lives of their dearest if they misbehaved.
Pembroke appreciated Clémence Carnot’s crucial legal advice on navigating restrictions involving cargo on boats and private planes, recognizing its potential to enhance his next ventures. However, as he continued reading the email, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the further racist remarks embedded within it. Mr. Carnot’s rant targeted the police, immigration authorities, and specifically “Rabah Bougherra,” who had fled to Algeria and whom the lawyer was convinced was behind his granddaughter’s disappearance.
Pembroke closed his laptop with a satisfied nod, signaling his intention to leave. He looked at Jamal and Mrs. Al-Haraz, a light-hearted air about him. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, smells of vagina and snakebites,” he joked, attempting a casual tone. “I think I’ll refresh myself with a walk. Oh, and by the way, Mrs. Al-Haraz, no more food for Yasmina. She has been sold and will be leaving us tomorrow to her new life.”
In her cell, Yasmina sat on the ground with her chin resting on her knees, a look of boredom on her face. At Pembroke’s words, she perked up, her eyes widening in nervous fear. Her soft lips parted in surprise, and her wavy hair shook as the life-altering news sank in. Pembroke couldn’t help but leer, his eyes lingering on her soft breasts and smooth stomach, imagining Dr. Ivanov playing with her.
“Yes,” said Pembroke with a leering sneer, “the buyer was very particular she arrives with her stomach empty.” He looked around for Amina and Farah, who were as ever holding hands and lying in the corner of the cell. “Amina and Farah, I have a job for you. You might as well make yourselves useful. I don’t want Yasmina to disgrace us by leaving with any bodily hairs, so I want you to very carefully inspect her body. Find any little hairs that need to be zapped and mark them with that little pen that Mrs. Al-Haraz,” he nodded to the Yemeni woman, “will give you. For each hair later found that you have missed, you will each spend a minute with the snakes and rats. You girls can decide which animals each of you spends time with.”
The Afghan mother and daughter audibly gasped and locked eyes with the young Moroccan girl, knowing they would both have to scour every nook and cranny of Yasmina’s body to avoid the terrible fate that had left Clare still mumbling incoherently to herself in the corner.
See you later, girls!” He waved cheerfully at the sullen captives in the cell, his demeanor remaining jovial and unaffected by the heavy atmosphere of fear, loneliness, revulsion, and sadness that lingered in the hall. With that, he stepped out, leaving the tense environment behind, and looked forward to bathing in the glorious sunshine outside.
Pembroke and Mrs Parker looked like a contented age appropriate couple lying in bed together, and not a vicious captor and slaver with this cowed slave. Her body had been well toned after months of exercise, nothing but healthy food and energetic sex, and still had the womanly curves that was the one thing he missed about the beautiful and much younger females he had such access to.
“How are the new girls getting on?”
“Lucy and Clare are still very rude to me, they are the only girls I would not feel comfortable in taking to my bed for the night, Master.”
“That’s a shame, Parker, it’s not fair that you cannot sample all the delights we have here without feeling unsafe. Lucy will soon be leaving us, however, by far our biggest sale so far, I had been worried her buy was backing out after buying Sophie, but it seems she has only whetted his appetite. It will be our biggest sale so far, which is just as well as we had to kill quite a few people and spend an awful lot of money for her.” Mrs Parker could not deny she had some attraction to this man, who was also the most evil specimen of humanity she had met, even among the other men who helped him run the complex. “Do you enjoy your life here, Parker?”
“Master … yes I think so” Mrs Parker thoughtfully replied as she lay across his chest. “I at least feel like I have a purpose, and I feel like I am helping the girls.”
“You are a fantastic asset Parker!” he sat up and slapped her on the ass “I don’t know how we would get on together. I hope you stay with us for a long time to come!” He reached for a remote and turned on the screen facing the bed. On came some video footage of a nondescript street.
Mrs Parker stirred and sat up nervously when she saw her ex husband in the picture and her two children playing.
“Dmitri took this footage a week ago. We have an order for a pretty young University student who is based in northern England. So many men want some girl they see on Instagram and won’t consider our girls already in stock, such a shame. Anyway, I asked Dmitri to check in with your family. They are very easy to reach. While it would not bring me any financial gain, it is so much simpler to carry out a murder than a kidnapping. Though in a few years, your daughter might make a nice piece of merchandise.
Mrs Parker bit her lip, and her nerves prompted her to ask “Master, have I displeased you in some way? Is there a way I can improve so you do not target my family?”
“Funny you should say that, Parker.” Pembroke turned to look at her.”We do need you for something. Now do you recall those mean things I showed you on social media and the newspapers about your death?”
He saw the woman turn, ashen faced, as she recalled the stories celebrating her disappearance and presumed death as “vile paedo vanishes” and “neighbourhood celebrates as female pervert disappears.”
“You see, Parker, you have no future outside this complex. The worst thing I could do to you, is release you. So I want you to remember that, along with that video of your family, when I tell you what you can do to help me.”
———- Linh Nguyen and Ayesha Rahman giggled together as they writhed against each other’s bodies in the bunk bed. “Shh, you will wake the others,” Linh whispered, but Ayesha didn’t stop playfully gliding her fingers under the hem of Linh’s skimpy pajama shorts. Ayesha turned Linh’s face to hers and kissed her to stifle her sighs, as Ayesha slowly brought her own fingers between Linh’s thighs and slipped them inside her thong. The other girls in the dorm were not impressed by the growing noises and giggles. One girl finally had enough and shouted at them, “Stop that! Have some respect, it’s 3 a.m.!” She angrily turned on the lights, pulling the covers off them, revealing their intimate position. “You dirty lesbian sluts!” she scolded.
The commotion escalated, leading to the hostel staff being called to restore peace. By the next morning, Linh and Ayesha cast hateful glances at the pretty lone girl with long, dark, tumbling tresses who had scolded them. “Who does she think she is?” they muttered, watching as the girl engrossed herself in a magazine article about the Venice Film Festival. “She probably is some whore who can’t afford to stay in a hotel room unless she is sucking a man’s cock.”
Ayesha, just eighteen years old and standing at five feet six inches tall, had expressive dark almond eyes framed by long lashes, a delicate nose, and full ruby lips that contrasted beautifully with her brown Bangladeshi skin. Her buxom breasts stood out against her slim frame, her curves stretching out gracefully.
Linh, also five feet six, had a slender build with small, apple-sized breasts and a wafer-thin waist. Her slender, tapered legs and olive skin beautifully reflected her Vietnamese heritage. Her captivating brown eyes, framed by slanted eyebrows, a small nose, and sculpted cheekbones, enhanced her delicate features. Unlike Ayesha’s curls and waves, Linh’s black hair was straight and smooth. Both girls had matching silver heart belly button piercings that sparkled in the Venetian sun, adding a touch of glimmer to their smooth stomachs as they enjoyed the morning light.
That morning, the hostel staff informed the two girls that they would not be welcome to stay another night following the complaint. The two girls were furious, but Linh cautioned her friend, “We might not even need another night here anyway.”
“I guess, if we get that job and decide to take it,” Ayesha responded nervously. “I don’t know about it though, I’m kinda nervous; that guy Pembroke seemed a bit off.”
“If Katalin and Anna think he’s on the level, that’s okay for me,” Linh said. “Let’s see this family’s yacht anyway.”
“It’s just gonna be so boring,” Ayesha moaned. “Working with some family on a boat for two weeks.”
“Yeah, but think of the money. Do you really want to go back to work for those pigs, selling our bodies, or get deported?”
“If we get the job, with the money, I’m gonna get a car and drive us all around Italy,” Linh smiled, holding Ayesha’s hand.
The two young lovers giggled as they wandered out into the crowded street among the tourists, in their matching tiny denim shorts, showing off the waistbands of their underwear, displaying their matching belly button jewelry with tight strappy tops and sandals, and backpacks their only other belongings.
“We better behave when we are on that boat, Linh, seriously, or he might throw us overboard!” The two giggled some more when, at the same moment, they both spotted the same girl who had complained about them, sitting by herself in a café. in a light blue summer dress with white spots, which rode up her thighs as she sat cross-legged, she looked lost in a daze of thought as she stared out the Doge’s Palace. “What a bitch,” spat Ayesha. She then noticed the girl had her phone lying beside her on the table. “I can see her knickers from here. I bet she really is an escort, the hypocritical bitch. Hey Linh, watch this,” she winked at her friend.
________________________________________
Zeynip Yildiz had dreamt of Venice all her life and couldn’t believe she was finally here, attending the Film Festival. The past six months had been tumultuous, with her parents kicking her out and her grandfather passing away, but now she felt she finally had a chance to make something of herself. It had been tough, and she had even considered how much money she could make as an escort, but she remembered her oath never to debase herself again. Staying in a hostel full of idiots like those girls had been hard. She sighed, frustrated at being told she was no longer welcome. It was the other two who were at fault, but it seemed she was being punished as well, or perhaps she had overdone it with her outburst at them.
Now, she needed to find another place to stay on a budget and wondered where she could go since Venice was fully booked. She desperately needed to meet some directors or film industry people here, but networking successfully was proving to be incredibly challenging.
She turned to get her phone, but … it was gone! She panicked and looked around, but it was nowhere to be found. She scanned the bustling crowd of tourists, but there was no sign of it. All her contacts, the calls she was going to make, the details, the planned messages, that meeting with the director—all gone! After searching frantically and asking the café manager for help, she had to admit defeat. Others around her felt sorry for her as she started crying, overwhelmed by the sudden loss and the crushing setback to her plans.
All except two Asian teenagers who were cackling with laughter from a safe vantage point. “The stupid bitch didn’t even lock her phone,” cackled Ayesha. “And she’s got her bank card on here. Come on, Linh, quick, let’s spend that whore’s money.”
“Ayesha, you are so evil! But yeah, let’s do it!” Linh said.
The two girls slipped into another shop, where they used Zeynip’s phone and online wallet to splurge on jewelry and dresses. In the changing room, they tried on their new finds, laughter echoing between the walls.
“You look so cute, Linh,” Ayesha giggled, admiring her friend.
Linh twirled in front of the mirror, eyeing a particularly short dress. “This one is so short, it’s like a t-shirt. It barely covers my ass,” she exclaimed.
Ayesha laughed, giving Linh’s ass a playful slap. “Maybe that’s the point,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hey, we might as well get some lingerie. If we have to work a uniform for two weeks, at least we can dress nice underneath.” She licked her lips and arched her eyebrows. “Oh my goodness, Linh, you look good enough to eat!” Ayesha had to admire Linh in a one-piece pastel lingerie which matched her skin color nude.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Ayesha,” Linh softly spoke to Ayesha as she was in green and black frilly French knickers and bra.
“You know, maybe if one of us can seduce Mr. Van Statton, then we could make a lot more money out of this than we thought,” giggled Linh, running her finger along the hem of Ayesha’s knickers.
“Ladies, you must get out of there and pay for those items!” came a voice.
“Sorry,” the girls chirruped in unison. They left the changing room giggling and paid for their items with Zeynip’s card, clutching their shopping. “God, that felt so good, knowing that bitch paid for it!” laughed Linh. “I guess we need to behave though, we have to meet the Van Stattons.”
“Yeah,” said Ayesha, “enough fun.” She eyed a shady-looking young man and immediately pegged him as a drug dealer. “Say, why don’t we try something to get us ready for the interview?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m nervous. What about some weed to calm us down, make us not seem overexcited, and make us look normal?”
Linh hesitated but then nodded. “Alright, just a little to take the edge off.” The two girls approached the dealer, ready to add another layer of risk to their already reckless day. They exchanged Zeynip’s phone for some pills.
Meanwhile, Zeynip sat on a bench, her head in her hands, trying to figure out her next move. She had barely any cash and felt completely lost without her phone. She needed to contact all the film industry professionals she had spent months chasing and networking with, preparing for this moment in Venice, and find a new place to stay. But right now, all she could think about was how everything seemed to be going wrong.
________________________________________
Ayesha and Linh felt dazed and relaxed from the drugs but tried to present themselves as professionals ahead of the upcoming meeting. They walked to the harbor in Venice until they found the boat at the designated place. The “Corsaro” was somewhat smaller than the superyacht they had imagined a billionaire might own.
They were met outside by a tall, blond, clean-shaven man with dazzling blue eyes. He wore impeccably tailored white trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a pink cardigan draped over his shoulders and tied in front. His deck shoes were polished, and he wore large, stylish glasses. Ayesha’s eyes were drawn to his watch, an undeniably expensive piece. Beside him stood a stern-looking man in a black suit, wearing sunglasses and an earpiece, exuding an air of impassive security.
“Ladies, welcome! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he spoke with a refined New York accent. “Ayesha and Linh, I presume?”
Ayesha stepped forward, trying to maintain her composure. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you for inviting us.”
The man smiled warmly. “I’m Clive Van Statton. I’ve been looking forward to our meeting. Please, come aboard. Oh, and don’t mind Dmitri; we have our kids to think about, so security, you know.”
As they boarded the Corsaro, Linh and Ayesha exchanged nervous glances but followed Mr. Van Statton’s lead. The interior of the yacht was luxurious yet understated, with polished wood and elegant furnishings. Despite their dazed state, they couldn’t help but be impressed by the opulence surrounding them.
“Ladies, meet my wife, Olivia.”
The girls watched as a glamorous middle-aged blonde woman, dressed elegantly and expensively, approached them. She seemed a little nervous and shy. “Hello, girls, welcome aboard! Sorry, the children are out at the moment. We wanted to see you first before we introduce you to them and make a decision about your employment.”
“Of course,” said Linh.
“Now, girls, I don’t know much about you, but I understand you’ve met Eddie?” Clive inquired.
“Eddie?” frowned Ayesha.
“Edward Pembroke, my buddy,” smiled Clive. “He spoke highly of you, said you girls are … let’s just say undocumented but very reliable, good workers, and good with kids. We also got a reference from Maria Kuzy.”
“Oh yes, of course, we met Edward. He was very nice!” Linh spoke up nervously.
Clive Van Statton smiled at the easy lies of the girls. He had spoken to the girls, but only via Zoom, as Edward Pembroke, looking rather different than he did today.
“Girls, have you thought about our rules?” said Olivia, her eyes kind but with an underlying intensity. Ayesha had a fleeting thought that Olivia might not want two pretty girls on board this yacht, possibly due to her husband’s desires. She smiled at the thought that she or Linh might actually end up being able to do something with the tall, handsome husband and was pleased they had brought so much nice lingerie.
“You mean social media? Yeah, we haven’t said anything about this. We fully respect your privacy,” Ayesha responded.
“And your phones?” Olivia asked gently.
“We are totally cool with that,” Ayesha replied. She felt a bit uneasy about agreeing to stay silent about their trip and had even thought perhaps she should have said something like “in case we disappear…” but this family seemed nice so far.
“And our pay?” Linh asked.
“A thousand dollars a day for each of you, for the next ten days, until we get to Marseille, in cash. Is that OK?” Clive asked, as if it was not a small fortune for girls like Ayesha and Linh. “We had to get you girls at the last minute; the other two backed out at the last moment, and our kids … well, Olivia needs help!”
Ayesha and Linh exchanged a quick glance, barely able to contain their excitement. A thousand dollars a day for ten days was more money than they had ever seen.
“Yes, that sounds more than fair,” Linh said, her voice steady despite her nervousness.
“Well, we leave straight away, I’m afraid, so there isn’t much time to make your decision,” Clive said. Ayesha seemed a little nervous. “Are you not waiting for the kids?”
“Oh yes, of course,” laughed Clive, “but we do want to leave in the next few hours. I mean, if you girls cannot do it, I understand. We will try and find some more staff by the time we get to Ancona.” “Do you mind if we just go for a coffee first and have a final think about it?” asked Ayesha, looking out on the deck at the people walking past.
Clive smiled tightly, also watching with some annoyance at the tourists strolling along in full view of them. “Yes, of course, girls, but we do need a decision soon. Can you let me know within an hour?” “Any other questions, girls? Anything else to allay your concerns?” asked Olivia. “I must say you both seem very nice, so I hope you can join us.”
“I think so too,” Linh said. “We just want to discuss it first.” “Fine, hopefully see you in an hour,” Clive smiled.
As they walked away from the yacht, Ayesha and Linh found a small café by the harbor. They sat down with their coffees, both feeling the weight of the decision they had to make. “This is a huge opportunity,” Linh said, stirring her coffee. “But we need to be sure we’re making the right choice.”
“I know,” Ayesha replied, glancing back towards the Corsaro. “It seems too good to be true, but they seem genuine. And the money … it’s a lot.”
“They are billionaires,” Linh said, rereading the only profile she could find of the family, seeing the unmistakable faces of Clive and Olivia with three small children in a small piece on an obscure website about a charity in New York. “They all love secrecy; the really rich don’t flaunt it.”
“What do you think of Clive?” Ayesha asked, running her toes along Linh’s leg with a smile.
“He’s cute!” said Linh. “His wife looks like she has been cheated on so much, she is so plain for him!” “Totally. I wonder why so much secrecy. The woman kept giving me looks like, ‘don’t take this job.’ You could tell she was expecting two ugly girls, not two hot chicks like us,” Ayesha grinned.
“Yeah,” laughed Linh, “I definitely got the vibe she was warning us off. Lucky bitch, having all that money.”
“Let’s call Katalin and double-check things, OK?”
________________________________________
Olivia Van Statton, also known as Mrs. Parker, cowered in the corner of the yacht’s lounge, holding her face after being struck by her ‘husband.’
“Damn bitches!” scowled Edward Pembroke, blinking furiously as he removed his uncomfortable blue contact lenses and put them back in their holder. “Little sluts thinking they can go off for a coffee. I should have grabbed them right there if we hadn’t been out on the deck in front of so many people. Who knows who they might be calling? It’s probably a lucky thing if we never see them again now.”
He turned his furious gaze back to Mrs. Parker. “If we haven’t got these girls, you stupid hag, I will blame you. And your fucking sideways glances—you’ll get a lot worse than that backhand, believe me, once we are out to sea!”
“I’m sorry, Master,” Mrs. Parker bawled.
Pembroke’s phone rang. It was Katalin. He answered, “Hi Katalin.”
“Edward!” Katalin said gladly, feeling so happy to hear his voice.
“Hello Katalin, how are things in Budapest?” Mrs. Parker could not help but admire how he effortlessly switched from cruel, angry tyrant to schmoozing lover. He even went over and stroked Mrs. Parker’s hair as he talked lovingly on the phone.
“Oh, it’s so exciting, this new job! Always something on!” Katalin could not help but stroke her necklace around her chest, lovingly touching it. “Edward, I just wanted to say thank you so much for the necklace. It’s so beautiful!” She looked at the little design of a heart, feeling the texture.
Pembroke smiled. He knew exactly where Katalin was, the necklace pendant had a tracker embedded in it, and he planned to make good use of it soon.
“I thought of you when I saw it, Katalin, and I just knew you should have it. I hope you wear it the next time I see you!”
“Are you kidding? I never take it off!” laughed Katalin.
“Hmm, even in the shower? I’m just imagining you with nothing on but that necklace,” Pembroke murmured, running his hand inside Mrs. Parker’s dress, massaging her breasts as he flirted breathily with Katalin down the phone.
“Oh, you!” laughed Katalin, biting her lip. “But Edward, I do have a reason for the call, not just to flirt and gossip!”
“Oh really, an ulterior motive?” laughed Pembroke.
“Yes, Edward. You know the Van Stattons pretty well. I just got off the phone with Ayesha and Linh.”
“Oh? What happened? I thought the Van Stattons had a rule about no phones.”
“Oh yes, well they met Clive today, and they just called me asking for some reassurance. They felt he was a bit off.”
“Oh, well Clive can be a bit intense. Trust me, these billionaires, none of them are normal!”
“But they liked his wife, and they said the money offered was amazing.”
“That’s good. So are they going to take the job? What did they think of the kids?”
“They never met the kids. The family said they were out, and the girls would only meet them once they agreed to the job and were on the boat.”
“Sounds sensible, to be honest,” Edward replied.
“Yes, I guess. I don’t really know this family, other than the little I was able to find online. And the girls are relying on me and Maria to vouch for the Van Stattons, but as you know, well, I haven’t told Maria anything. She wouldn’t approve of the girls working illegally, so I feel like a bit of a fraud telling the girls that we are both vouching for the family.”
“Well, I understand, but cash-in-hand work is normal, and I’m sure when you were young, you did plenty of things you wouldn’t do now!” laughed Pembroke.
“That’s what I told the girls,” Katalin said. “I used to hitchhike around Europe when I was seventeen, and nothing bad happened to me! It’s just that I’m off to Egypt tomorrow with Lila, and the girls won’t have their phones, so I feel a bit responsible for them.”
“Responsibility is never easy,” sighed Pembroke, squeezing Mrs. Parker’s nipples. The woman knew better than to make any noise.
“Edward, I trust you, so I am going to tell the girls a little white lie and say both Maria and I can vouch for the Van Stattons. I think they should take it. I mean, they said he is going to pay them a thousand dollars a day each! That is crazy money; I would do it!”
“I have no doubt you would, Katalin. You have a sense of adventure, something youngsters these days lack!”
“Anyway, I have to go, Edward. The girls say they are on a strict deadline, and I need to call them back. But thank you so much, you don’t know how much pressure you have lifted off my shoulders. Now I can relax on my holiday knowing the girls will be safe!”
“You worry about others too much, Katalin,” said Pembroke, smiling. “I hope you and Lila have an amazing time in Egypt. Remember to send me lots of pictures, and not just of the pyramids, if you know what I mean?” He sniggered down the phone.
“Oh, you!” She laughed and turned off the call. She bit her lip, fingering her necklace again, thinking of Edward Pembroke.
“Well, things are looking up,” Pembroke said, turning to Mrs. Parker with a smile. “I’m sorry I struck you, Mrs. Parker. You have been very obedient during this trip. I’m sorry I cannot take you ashore, but I prefer you snugly safe on board here. But we can come out on deck, and you can view the sights of Venice again. What does it feel like to see normal people again after living in the complex for nearly a year? It must be strange.”
“I am here to serve you, Master,” Mrs. Parker responded.
She obediently followed Pembroke out onto the deck as they both took in the glorious sights of Venice, looking for all the world like a happy, wealthy tourist couple. The city’s charm and vibrancy were on full display, with gondolas gliding through the canals and tourists bustling about, taking in the historic beauty.
Pembroke put his arm around Mrs. Parker’s shoulders, maintaining the facade of a loving husband. “Enjoy the view, Mrs. Parker. You won’t have many more chances to see such sights.” She nodded, her eyes scanning the scene below. “It is beautiful, Master. Thank you for allowing me this moment.”
________________________________________
Zeynip Yildiz wandered around the streets of Venice and the festival area, but without her phone, she couldn’t access the necessary codes. She couldn’t believe it—she had paid so much money for it! She was in despair. Suddenly, she noticed the two girls whose night of passion she had disrupted in the hostel bunk bed, which had led to her getting thrown out as well. They were giggling and looking so happy; she hated them so much!
With nothing better to do, she followed them, wondering where they were going with their bags of shopping. They seemed to have enough money for that, so why couldn’t they afford a hotel room instead of making love with a dozen other strangers around them in a hostel dorm?
She followed them to a yacht and watched them meet a blond couple who looked wealthy. Perhaps they were escorts going for a threesome? The couple certainly looked rich enough for it, but when she looked more closely, she couldn’t believe it—Edward Pembroke? The man she had met so fleetingly in Istanbul? He was in the film business; of course, he was here for the Film Festival!
She hung back, curious about what the girls were doing. They both left after about ten minutes onboard, and she confirmed to herself that yes, it was Edward Pembroke. As a former escort, she knew the ‘walk of shame’ when she saw it and knew that nothing naughty had been done.
She hid behind a wall and listened to the two girls as they walked past.
“He seems nice … Lots of money … Great opportunity … Katalin and Maria wouldn’t vouch for him if he wasn’t totally legit…”
Zeynip was intrigued. She was running out of options, so she started walking up and down the harbor, trying to ‘accidentally’ catch sight of him again.
After a few minutes of anxious pacing, she saw Edward Pembroke standing on the deck, seemingly engrossed in conversation with his blonde partner. She would have preferred to meet him alone, but she had to chance it.
Taking a deep breath, she approached the yacht, hoping to catch Edward’s attention without causing a scene. “Edward! Is that you?” she called out, trying to sound casual yet enthusiastic.
Pembroke looked up, momentarily surprised. His expression was neutral as he looked at her, and then up and down the harbor, seemingly confused.
“Oh … I remember you! It’s…”
“Zeynip … Zeynip Yildiz? We exchanged information in Istanbul?”
Edward’s face lit up with recognition. “Yes, of course, Zeynip! How could I forget? What brings you to Venice?”
Zeynip smiled, relieved that he remembered her. “I’m here for the festival, but I lost my phone, and things have been a bit difficult. I didn’t expect to run into you. Your hair looks … different.”
Edward’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “What a coincidence! As for my hair, what can I say? We actors are so vain, though it is for work, well, that’s what I tell myself, haha. Why don’t you come aboard for a moment? We can catch up and see if there’s anything we can do to help.”
Zeynip had never been on a yacht before and felt a rush of excitement as Pembroke gallantly helped her up. She pulled her dress down, trying not to flash her white panties underneath, conscious of what seemed like his wife looking at her with a little trepidation.
“Goodness, what a coincidence. The last I saw you was six months ago. You were working in an electronics store in Istanbul, and now you are in Venice for the film festival. Things move fast!” Edward remarked.
“Well, looks can be deceptive,” Zeynip smiled shyly. “I am here for the festival, but it’s kind of hard to get invited anywhere. I’ll be honest, I haven’t made much progress. I made a short movie and was hoping to network here.”
Edward nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds interesting! I would love to see it!”
“I can show you, it’s online, obviously just not on my phone, as it’s … well … gone,” Zeynip waved her arms helplessly and laughed nervously, expressing her frustration at herself.
“Was it stolen today? That is terrible. How are you keeping in contact with people?” Pembroke smelled an opportunity like a wolf.
“To be honest, that part I don’t mind. My family and I … well, we don’t talk much anymore. I think they would be more freaked out to hear from me than to go a month without hearing from me,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been kind of a loner this last while. But you’ve done well; look at this boat!”
“Oh,” Pembroke sighed. “It’s not my yacht, not my wife either!” He laughed gaily as he pulled Mrs. Parker close. “I am only joking. This is Olivia, my darling wife!”
“Hello, Zeynip,” said Olivia shyly.
“Hello, Olivia! Sorry, I don’t mean to impose.”
Pembroke smiled at Zeynip’s naivety and total lack of social skills. She was beautiful but nervous and shy, and it showed. She lacked confidence. This was looking very promising.
“No, please, we are here for the festival too. In fact, we are showing a movie of our own. Like you, we find it tough.”
“Well, I think you are much better than me. You seem so … confident!”
“Haha, it all comes with practice. But I thought you act as well?”
“Yes, I act,” she said shyly, averting her eyes.
“Are you in your movie?”
“Yes,” she smiled shyly.
“How long is it?”
“Ten minutes, it’s pretty short.” Zeynip did not want to say that it had taken her dozens of hours and a lot of money to make.
“Well, maybe we could watch it together sometime,” Pembroke looked at Olivia suggestively.
“Yes, Edward, that sounds great,” Olivia responded. Zeynip smiled at Olivia, who also seemed a little shy compared to Pembroke, but then so would anyone. He was so charismatic. If anything, she found Olivia’s quiet demeanor rather comforting.
“Are you casting?” Zeynip asked, trying not to sound desperate.
Pembroke immediately guessed that she had seen the two girls leave. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we just had a chat with two of our actresses just now.”
“Wow, well, I guess I should say … you know…”
“Zeynip, are you asking if we have parts available?” Pembroke grinned at her.
“Yeah,” Zeynip blushed.
“Never be too shy to ask. One must always take chances in life!”
“Yes! That’s what my grandfather told me,” Zeynip started rambling. “He died six months ago. He was my best friend. He died helping people, and I’ve always remembered him saying that. He inspired me. He left me some money from his will and the insurance from the fire…”
“The fire?”
“Oh … yeah, sorry. He died in a fire back in Istanbul. He ran a hotel, and it … it’s horrible. Sorry, two girls died, and he tried to save them. He saved others.” Zeynip wiped away a tear forming in her eye.
“Your grandfather sounds like a noble man,” Pembroke said gently. “I would have loved to have met him.” He remembered Zeynip’s last name, Yildiz, and tried hard to suppress a grin of recognition.
“Well, I don’t really know the process. Are you going out tonight?”
“Yes, we are, meeting up with the rest of the crew. Maybe you can come along,” Pembroke smiled. “We have a few free passes,” he whispered conspiratorially and smiled.
“Oh, thanks,” Zeynip blustered, scarcely able to believe her luck.
“But Zeynip, I am concerned you have no phone and no way to tell people where you are. Are you sure you are OK?”
“I’m fine,” said Zeynip, twirling her hair distractedly, trying to hide her desperation. “Well, to be honest, like I said, nobody really cares about me anyway. I do need to find a new place to stay, so I do need to start asking hostels and the like,” she pointed to her backpack and raised her eyes and sighed dramatically.
“Oh, of course, it must be so hard,” Pembroke said with sympathy.
“Perhaps, dear, if Zeynip’s movie is only ten minutes long, we could watch it now?” Olivia asked her husband.
“Yes!” Pembroke smiled at his wife, then at Zeynip. “Why not? He rubbed his hands excitedly. “We can see what you are like as an actress, and this evening we can tell the rest of the company we have already seen you act!”
“Oh … no … it’s erm…”
“Zeynip, I thought you were here to show film industry insiders your movie,” winked Pembroke. “Remember your grandfather’s saying, be brave. I’m sure your movie is great! Why don’t we watch it below deck, you can get online, we watch it, then we can find you a place to stay, and you can come out with us to the film festival tonight?” He raised his eyebrows at Olivia, who simply said, “Splendid idea, Edward.”
Zeynip bit her lip. This could be the opportunity to change her life. “Yes, just promise not to laugh!” “As long as it’s not a comedy!” Pembroke smiled. “Olivia darling, perhaps we can get some champagne for Zeynip downstairs and get the movie on the screen,” he said, arching his eyebrows at her.
As he guided the thrilled-looking Zeynip downstairs, Edward watched the harbor carefully as they disappeared below deck. Once below, the interior of the yacht revealed its true luxury. Edward led Zeynip to a cozy lounge area with plush seating and a large screen.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Edward said, gesturing to the sofa. “We’ll have everything set up in just a moment.”
Zeynip sat down, her excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. She had never been in such a lavish setting before, and the possibility of her film being seen by influential people was exhilarating. “Oh, how did the audio collars work out?”
“Oh, they didn’t work out, unfortunately,” Pembroke smiled sadly. In reality, they had been a fantastic purchase. He had enjoyed using them to monitor and control the girls, spending hours reading the chatter between them and listening in. His eyes went to Zeynip’s neck as he imagined such a collar soon being clipped around it.
Pembroke and Olivia sat on either end of the three-person sofa, and Zeynip squeezed in between them, accepting the glass of champagne. Zeynip shyly turned to Pembroke, his face so close and his smile disarming, as he looked into her dark, hopeful eyes.
“To a fun movie,” he toasted, his eyes not leaving Zeynip.
Zeynip clinked her glass with his, trying to steady her hand. “To a fun movie,” she echoed, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation.
As they sipped their champagne, the screen flickered to life with the opening scenes of Zeynip’s short film. The camera lingered on her in a changing room, undressing and changing into a football strip, her jeans slipping down to reveal a grey thong.
“Revealing,” Pembroke murmured, his voice low and insinuating. He slid his arm around Zeynip, pulling her closer. She blushed, a flush of discomfort creeping up her neck. When the film shifted away from her body, she felt his gaze remain fixed on her, not the screen. His eyes bored into the side of her head, a predator’s focus on its prey.
She glanced to her right, seeking refuge in Oliva’s presence, only to meet a cold, unyielding stare. The lounge seemed to close in around her, the air thick with unspoken menace.
Then she felt it—a hand, Pembroke’s hand, sliding up her thigh, creeping under her dress with deliberate intent. The room, the movie, the champagne—all faded away, leaving only the cold, predatory sensation of his hand.
“Please,” she squeaked softly, unable to move as his hand ventured upwards under her dress until it poked against her panty-clad crotch.
“Mrs. Parker,” Pembroke whispered, his breath hot against Zeynip’s ear, “get the cuffs and the gag.” Who was Mrs. Parker? Panic surged through Zeynip as she saw Oliva rise and move purposefully toward a drawer.
Before she could react, she felt Pembroke’s other hand grip her head, pulling her roughly towards him. His lips crashed against hers in a forceful, unwanted kiss, stealing her breath and shattering her ability to resist. The cold reality of her situation sank in as she felt Oliva return, the metallic sound of cuffs confirming her worst fears.
Pembroke took his hand from between her legs and grabbed hre left wrist as Mrs Parker gently took her right hand. “Zeynip, why don’t you keep your wrists together behind your back, while I cuff you” Mrs Parker gently smiling at her.
Zeynip could barely breathe and found herself complying, albeit with their hands guiding her wrists together. “Bu-but—please stop…” she stammered, her voice trembling with desperation. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Mrs. Parker efficiently secured the cuffs around her wrists. Pembroke turned her face back to him, his lips crashing against hers once more. This time, he plunged his tongue between her lips, a forceful invasion that left her gasping for air.
Suddenly, she felt a cold metal collar snap around her neck. As the collar tightened, she realized it was connected to her wrists, which were yanked painfully upward behind her back. The motion forced her to arch her back, pushing her breasts forward obscenely, her cleavage straining against her dress.
She finally broke away and saw the movie still playing, showing her and her onscreen football coach arguing in a café. How quaint her troubles with the movie seemed now compared to this nightmare. The man who had seemed so friendly had turned into a predator. “Please, stop, I don’t want this. No. I don’t want to do this,” she cried, tears streaming down her face.
“Now now, Zeynip,” Pembroke murmured, moving his hand to cup her breasts through her dress, admiring their shape with twisted appreciation. “This is just the beginning. Why don’t you open that pretty mouth nice and wide for Mrs. Parker to put the gag in?”
The space was filled with nothing but Zeynip’s sobs. Mrs. Parker approached with the gag, her expression disturbingly gentle, as if she were performing a kind act rather than participating in this torment. Zeynip’s heart pounded in her chest as she hesitated, knowing resistance was futile but unable to accept her fate. With trembling lips, she finally parted her mouth, the sense of dread overwhelming her as Mrs. Parker prepared to silence her pleas.
“Now, we can continue without listening to more of your silly ramblings,” smiled Pembroke. One hand reached around her, cupping her other breast, while his other hand slid back up her skirt and between her legs, rubbing against her panties. “The movie was quite good, Zeynip, but you really should not have had old man Hasan Yildiz as a role model. He was a rather silly man.”
Zeynip’s shock at his fingers nuzzling her vagina through the thin cotton fabric was magnified by his mention of her grandfather’s name. Her brown eyes widened in disbelief and horror, a fresh wave of fear and violation washing over her.
Pembroke stood up from the sofa and positioned himself in front of her. “Now, I like to keep the panties of my new girls, so I am going to remove these delightful white knickers,” he said, running his hands up her dress to her hips. He tucked his fingers inside the hem and, in one smooth movement, pulled them down her thighs, past her ankles, and over her white trainers. He held them to his mouth and inhaled deeply. “Hmmmm, nice. I will add these to my collection.”
Now pantyless, Zeynip felt the chill circulate to her defenseless vagina, her arms useless and her voice gone. Pembroke took her knees and pulled them wide apart, then lifted them up, exposing her stubble-covered slit. He looked up at her frightened face, her jaws stretched obscenely with the gag, and smiled with satisfaction.
Zeynip watched with horror as his predatory grin and the cruel glint in his eyes disappeared from view, his face moving between her legs. She felt his mouth against her pussy, a shock of invasive intimacy that made her jump and grunt into the gag. His tongue pressed against and then inside her, sending waves of revulsion through her body.
Her eyes darted to Mrs. Parker, who stood watching impassively, now stroking Zeynip’s hair with a disturbingly gentle touch. Zeynip’s heart pounded in her chest, tears streaming down her face, her mind screaming in protest as her body remained trapped in their control.
Pembroke hurriedly took off his shirt and unbuckled his trousers, his face a morass of desire and animal lust, a completely different creature from the kindly charismatic man Zeynip had briefly known. Her eyes were drawn to the large, thick cock that sprouted from the dark hair between his legs, shooting up to his belly button like a dangerous weapon being loaded against her.
He bared his teeth at her as he threw himself on her, pushing his cock against the entrance of her pussy. His eyes and hot breath pressed against her face, and his hands went around her throat, squeezing with a brutal force. She silently screamed as the pressure cut off her windpipe, and she felt the violent invasion of her insides as he forced himself deep inside her.
He pulled his hands away just as she thought she might die, one hand grabbing her hair and yanking her head back roughly, the other pulling her right breast out of her dress. His mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking and biting her tender flesh while he pumped his cock inside her. “FFFFUUUCCCKK!” Pembroke sighed and bucked one last time, pushing inside her to the hilt, his balls nestling in her crack. He pulled out and smiled.
“That was amazing, Zeynip,” Pembroke said, pulling up his pants and trousers before buttoning his shirt again. “We’ll get to know a bit more about you later—your family, your age, your life—but for now, that was quite a lovely anonymous fuck.” Zeynip held her thighs together in a vain attempt at modesty, despite the pain between her legs, as she cried. She looked at both Pembroke and Mrs. Parker, wondering what would happen next. Would they release her? Kill her?
As if reading her mind, Pembroke answered, “You won’t be released, Zeynip. When you followed your foolish grandfather’s advice, you changed your life forever. But instead of making it in the movies, you’ve entered into a life of sex slavery. It’s always pleasant to have an unexpected opportunity, but I have never had anyone deliver themselves to me quite like this!” He laughed at her, a cruel, mocking sound. “Master,” Mrs. Parker said, “I hear Mr. Voskov. I believe the girls have returned.”
“Ah, excellent, Mrs. Parker, or should I say, my darling Olivia Van Statton. Come join me on deck. Hopefully, this should be straightforward.” He then took a gun from a locked drawer and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers at the back. “Fuck, my contact lenses,” he cursed, unable to find them.
Ayesha and Linh had taken one last stroll around Venice before returning, stretching out the hour. They trusted Katalin and Maria and were eager for the money. As they approached the yacht, Dmitri smiled at them and showed them onboard.
“Ah, ladies!” Clive Van Statton came on deck, looking a little disheveled, while Olivia followed him, smiling. “Please come up. I hope you have positive news.”
Ayesha whispered to Linh, “They’ve just been having it off. Check out his clothes.” Linh giggled, “Shut up, be respectful!” Neither thought too much about his sunglasses.
“Yes, Mr. Van Statton, we are happy to accept!” Ayesha smiled.
“Excellent news, girls!” Clive responded, grinning.
“Wonderful, we look forward to having you with us,” Olivia smiled.
“Now, girls, about the phones and things,” Clive said.
“Yeah, here they are. No security on them, all the apps are open, so you can check everything.”
“Thank you, girls,” Olivia said. “You will have them back in ten days or if there is an emergency. But in the meantime, we hope you understand our privacy concerns.”
“We get it,” smiled Linh, a little nervously. Suddenly, there was a loud moaning noise from below deck.
“Oh, that is the baby. Olivia, I think it is feeding time again!” Clive smiled at his wife, who laughed. “Yes, Clive, I will go down to feed.”
“Oh, I cannot wait to meet the kids. I love children,” said Ayesha.
“Well, what better time than the present?” said Clive, scanning the harbor. “Oh, you are all ready to go, right? No last-minute things?”
“No, we are all ready to go,” Linh smiled and gave a thumbs up.
The moaning from below was getting louder.
“Well, let’s go downstairs!” Olivia walked down first, followed by the girls, then Clive and Dmitri.
The girls at first were enamored with the interior of the lounge below deck, marveling at the details. The plush furnishings, elegant decor, and luxurious ambiance made them feel as if they had stepped into a different world. They exchanged excited glances, momentarily distracted.
As they moved further in, the moaning sound grew louder and more unsettling, not at all like a baby. Ayesha and Linh’s initial excitement began to wane, replaced by a creeping sense of unease.
Linh watched in shock as Ayesha jumped back, covering her hand with her mouth. Linh turned and gasped as she saw none other than the girl who had crossed them at the hostel, and whom they had since robbed, lying on the sofa. She was still in her trainers and light blue dress, but her arms seemed to be tied behind her back, and a bright red ball gag dominated her tear-stained face, stretching her mouth wide into an O shape, her hair all over the place.
“What the…”
They both turned and recoiled as they saw Dmitri and ‘Clive’ standing stony-faced, each pointing Glock pistols at them. Clive had taken his sunglasses off, revealing dark, amused eyes rather than the luminous blue from earlier.
“This will be one of your new colleagues, girls,” Clive said, gesturing to Zeynip. “Oh, I am afraid the terms of your employment have been altered, quite dramatically as it happens. There will be quite a lot of money paid for your company, but it will come at a later date and you won’t see any of it. It will be a lot more than twenty thousand dollars. Your uniform will not be those rather ugly boiler suits we sent you, in fact, you won’t be wearing many clothes at all during your employ. And the duration of your employment and your hiding away from your friends and family has been extended from ten days to … the end of your natural lives.” He shut the door behind them.
“You can’t … people know we are here, the charity in Budapest, look, let us go now and there will be trouble,” Ayesha announced defiantly.
“You let me worry about them. In the meantime, please put your wrists behind your back and cross them while Mrs. Parker, who is not my billionaire wife but my slave, cuffs you.”
“Never! HELP!” Ayesha began to scream, but Dmitri lashed out and slapped her across the face, knocking her to the ground. “Do as you are told, bitch!”
Both girls were shocked into compliance as Mrs. Parker efficiently worked behind their backs, securing their wrists with cuffs.
“Now, the collars and the gags, please, Mrs. Parker,” Clive ordered.
Mrs. Parker approached with the collars and gags, her expression detached and mechanical. Ayesha and Linh could do nothing but watch each other as their fate was sealed.
Pembroke moved to the drawer, opened it, and put the Glock inside, then brought out a large knife. Both girls moaned in fear as Pembroke approached Ayesha, running the blade along her shoulders. He cut off the straps of her dress, then moved it underneath the fabric just above her belly button, tearing it cleanly in half and pulling it away, throwing it to the ground. Her honey-brown breasts and chocolate-brown nipples were exposed, her ample breasts trembling as she breathed rapidly in terror.
He ran his fingers over her breasts, teasing her nipples until they hardened. Ayesha whimpered, her body involuntarily reacting to his touch despite her fear and revulsion. Pembroke’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he continued his cruel exploration.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinister delight. “You’ll fetch a high price, my dear.” He opened the button of her tight denim shorts and pulled the zipper down, revealing her red panties underneath against the blue denim. Running his finger up and down her taut stomach, he pulled down her panties and let his finger dig in until he found the tender flesh of her pussy. He watched her eyes as he wriggled it inside her, savoring her reaction. Then he brought his finger to his mouth. “Nice. Every girl tastes different, but you all taste delicious.”
He crouched down and roughly yanked her denim shorts down, followed by her red panties, forcing her feet up to step out of them. He sniffed the red panties, smiled, and handed them to Mrs. Parker. “I do love the first smell of a girl when I take them. A nice memento of a momentous occasion in your life.”
He turned to Linh and made short work of her top, then chose to slice her denim shorts away with the knife as she sobbed, revealing her lilac sheer panties. He pressed his face against the fabric, breathing in her scent through the sheer material, licking around and moving his tongue under the gusset, delighting in the sour taste of her juices.
“Nice contrast, my girls. This smell will forever be a reminder of this moment.” He pulled her panties off and licked and sucked through the gusset before handing them to Mrs. Parker.
“Boss, these girls have brought a lot of nice lingerie,” Dmitri grinned, showing off the fancy garments in their shopping bags.
“Oh, it will be a fun boat trip then,” Pembroke smiled. “Now, I know both of you were whores, so you will forgive me if I don’t offer you any decorum here. You are going to be slaves, and I am going to sell you. Not as prostitutes by the hour, but to one man for the rest of your life as a sex slave to live the rest of your life in captivity. Sex and violence, that will be your life from now on. Dmitri, I give you first pick. Which one do you want to fuck? I will take the other.”
Dmitri’s grin widened as he looked between Ayesha and Linh, the girls trembling with fear. He pointed to Ayesha, “I’ll take her.”
“Excellent choice,” Pembroke said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Linh, you’re with me.” He traced a finger from between her legs, along her crack, past her anus, and up her lower spine between her cute little back dimples, relishing her shivers.
“But first, I think we should unmoor and get out of Venice. I hope all you girls enjoyed the city; it will be the last piece of normal human life you will ever see for the rest of your lives!”
Mrs. Parker was left guarding the three girls, who sat on the sofa while the men above deck worked to get the boat moving. The Corsora would soon become the Zephyr again once they were safely out to sea.
“I am sorry, girls,” Mrs. Parker said, her voice tinged with regret. “It must be quite a shock. In my own way, I did try to warn you all. But now you are slaves, and I will do my best to help you in your new lives.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll do what I can to make things easier for you, but you must understand, there’s no escape from this. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be to survive.”
Her words offered little comfort to the three girls, who were about to embark on a horrific journey filled with days of rape and abuse. They exchanged despairing glances, their hopes dwindling with each passing second. The luxurious yacht, once a symbol of adventure and freedom, had become a prison. As the city of Venice disappeared from view, they knew their old lives were lost forever, replaced by a grim and uncertain future.
________________________________________
As Victor smoked the shared joint with his Nigerian friends in Milan, he took another look through the phone he had accepted a few days earlier in exchange for drugs from those cute young girls in Venice. He should really try and sell it to get some more money, but the screen was cracked badly. The silly girl who owned the phone still had not blocked the phone or her bank account, but he had reached her overdraft limit now for purchases and so it had outlived its usefulness.
He enjoyed looking at her photos, some in underwear, some naked, some seemingly half professional like those for a sex worker. High and drunk, he began uploading the most explicit photos to her social media, and then sent them to her “mum” and “dad” along with picture of his black penis. “Your daughter is a whore for my cock” he sent, laughing. A few minutes later, he got a panicked phone call from a woman in broken English, Zeynips’s mother. “What have you done, who are you? Where is Zeynip?” Victor told her to she was too busy sucking his cock to talk, and told the woman to “fuck off” and hung up. Realising what he had done, he panicked, and took the phone and threw it into a canal. He laughed at the terror in the woman’s voice and thought no more about the owner of the phone.
“Keep still, bitch!” Mrs. Al-Haraz hissed at Samira, slapping her face roughly.
Samira’s body was strapped down tightly, like a mummy, to the table in front of the cell. Leather straps secured her wrists and ankles, rendering her completely immobile. Another strap crossed her midsection, pinning her down further. Mrs. Al-Haraz tightened the vice around Samira’s head, making her face completely still. The other captives watched in horror, their eyes wide with fear, as a new form of torture was inflicted upon one of them.
“Please, don’t do this to me. Let me be sold to someone else. Just don’t mark my face,” Samira pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. She wriggled her toes and fingers, the only movement she could manage apart from her face, desperate tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Why do you care? It’s not your face; it will belong to your owner, you bitch!” Mrs. Al-Haraz breathed over the terrified girl. “I just need to tighten this vice to stop you from moving your head so much!”
“NOOOOO! Please, you’ll break my skull!” Samira cried out, twisting her head in a futile attempt to escape.
“I’m not going to mess up these tattoos and get myself into trouble over it!” Mrs. Al-Haraz hissed back, her voice cold and unyielding.
Samira had been sold. Her buyer, attracted to her ethnicity and face, wanted tribal tattoos around her body. He had sent an old National Geographic article featuring Maori women, requesting a specific pattern that extended down her forehead, across her cheekbones, and along her chin. Further tattoos were planned for her mons, hands, feet, and the back of her shoulders, all in intricate black patterns.
Samira sobbed uncontrollably, her desperate pleas echoing in the dimly lit room. “Please, please, don’t do this. Don’t ruin my face,” she cried, her voice breaking. But her pleas fell on deaf ears as the nightmarish procedure began.
As the tattoo needle gun worked on the spot between her eyebrows, the hot injection into her skin cast a bolt of despair into Samira’s brain. The training, the torture, the rape, the abuse, the punishment, the tattoo on her hand, the hair removal—all these horrors might fade with time if she ever escaped. But this was different. This was permanent. At just eighteen, whether she escaped or not, these monsters had marked her forever. They had marred her beauty, forcing themselves onto her face, the one part of her that everyone would see. Now, they had taken that too, she would always know who she was, looking in the mirror, or looking at anyone, she could never be anyone other than a slave, for the remainder of her life.
________________________________________
Kasia, dressed in gym shorts and a bra, was climbing a roughly assembled wall in another room. The wall was set up above a mattress, but the grips were unstable, and every now and then, one would fall off in her hand, causing her to land on the mattress. Some grips delivered electric shocks, making her fly off and crash onto the mat.
She screamed as she fell, skidding off the mattress and hitting the floor.
Konrad, watching, clapped appreciatively. “That was good, Kasia. You nearly got to the top. Just remember, it’s not about being fair. Your owner might shock you to stop you from reaching the top just because he wants to. There’s nothing you can do about it; you just have to accept it.”
Kasia slammed her palm on the ground. “Why? Why is he such a bastard? These games are sick!”
“Now, now, Kasia,” Konrad replied. “You did quite well this morning with the tunnel game.”
“How do you know he won’t rig that game too, just to punish me for failing even if I win?” moaned Kasia, clutching her arm on the ground, still in pain.
“Again, remember, Kasia, you must do your best, but these games are for your owner’s enjoyment. Your job is to please him. That’s the objective. You’re a good climber, but you need to learn fast. There might not even be a mattress when your Master plays with you.”
“It sounds like the bastard wants to kill me,” wailed Kasia. “The Master promised me he would sell me to a nice owner if I behaved, and I have behaved!”
“Kasia, there are much worse buyers out there,” laughed Konrad. “It would turn your hair gray to hear about what’s going to happen to Yasmina!”
“I can’t do this. Why don’t you just kill me now?” sobbed Kasia, collapsing on the mattress.
“Now, now, Kasia,” Konrad said, stroking her hair. “The Master charged a lot of money for you, so if your owner decides to kill you or is so careless with these games that you die, then it will be his loss. He will want to give you a chance to stay alive, for a while at least. The key is to keep him entertained; the longer you entertain him, the longer you’ll live.”
“What a fucking life,” Kasia stared into the distance. “Konrad, you’re not really that evil underneath it all, are you?”
“Kasia, I told you,” Konrad said sternly. “Don’t try to tempt me. Any more talk like that, and I will have you spend a whole night with the rats. I would beat you black and blue, but we don’t want to tarnish you ahead of your transfer to your owner.”
Kasia stared down at the ground, the inhumanity of it all unbelievable.
“Don’t think we are all evil here. It’s just that you are a slave, to be sold, and that is all there is to it. If we wanted to make even more money out of your buyer, we would not be training you so much now for his planned games, because the sooner you die, the sooner he may want to pay us for a replacement.”
As Kasia continued to stare into the silence past him, Konrad crouched down next to her, running his hand along her thigh and over the cotton shorts covering her shapely buttocks.
“Speaking of replacements, I heard the Master say you have a lovely sister, Agnes, just fourteen. I am getting a new ID soon and will be going out on scouting and kidnap missions for the organization. Agnes looks like a nice girl. I already know her address, her school, and how she gets to school every day. Who knows, maybe your owner will demand your sister to replace you if you don’t fulfill his fantasies?”
Kasia groaned. She had not seen Agnes in over a year but had seen a picture of her last week, she had grown so much in a year. It had been put on the top of the inside wall of the cell, part of the photos for the girls to stare at every day of their family members, grim reminders that they would be targeted if there was misbehavior.
“Now, one last game for the day, Kasia,” Konrad said, his voice cold, “for this, please remove your clothes.”
Kasia mechanically stepped out of her shorts and pulled off her bra top. She was already barefoot, her toes sore from hanging onto the grips.
Konrad brought out a device that held two wires positioned one above the other. The participant had to get on their hands and feet, or sometimes knees, and crawl forward between the two wires. The bottom wire was at knee height, and the top wire was at chest height, ensuring they always had to be crawling. The wires delivered small shocks, so they couldn’t touch either the bottom or top wire.
The wires weren’t straight. Sometimes the bottom wire was raised slightly, requiring them to switch from hands-and-knees crawling to hands-and-feet crawling, while still staying below the top wire. Additionally, the top wire sometimes hung down slackly between points, so they had to ensure they stayed above the bottom wire and below the slack top wire.
Konrad set up the wires, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. “This will test your endurance and precision. Remember, no touching the wires, or you’ll get a shock.”
Kasia took a deep breath, preparing herself for the challenge. She positioned herself at the starting point, aware of the electric shocks that awaited her if she made any mistakes. Her body ached from the previous tasks, but she knew she had to keep going.
As she began to crawl, she was forced to stay on all fours, arching her back downward to move herself between the wires. Her breasts hung low, swaying precariously with each movement, and she feared that one wrong sway might make them touch the bottom wire. Simultaneously, she had to be careful that her upturned buttocks didn’t graze the top wire. The position was humiliating and painful, but she had no choice.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she inched forward, her muscles straining to maintain the awkward position. Kasia’s heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself forward and downward, her focus split between her dangling breasts and her elevated buttocks. The fear of the electric shocks kept her on edge, every muscle taut with tension.
As she moved, the bottom wire nudged between her vaginal lips, delivering a small shock. She winced, her body tensing as the shock coursed through her. She held her position, gritting her teeth and waiting for the sensation to pass. Her breasts jiggled from the abrupt stop, and she anxiously waited for them to stop swinging before daring to move again.
Konrad gently patted her buttocks to urge her forward, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. “Keep going, Kasia,” he said, his voice smooth and insistent. “You’re doing well, but don’t get too comfortable. The challenge is far from over.”
She bit her lip, trying to ignore the degrading sensation of his hand on her skin. She couldn’t afford to lose focus, not even for a moment.
The course seemed endless, each twist and turn a new challenge. Kasia’s muscles burned, and sweat dripped down her face.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the end of the course. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the end of the course. Exhausted and trembling, she collapsed to the ground, staring at the ceiling, her body aching from the exertion.
Konrad walked over, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well done, Kasia. Just one shock. Now I think we should do five more trips back and forth. I am sorry if you think it cruel, but your new owner will not be as forgiving. Perhaps he might have razor-edged wires!”
Kasia groaned silently, realizing with horror he was probably right.
________________________________________
Fresh from the Venice Film Festival, Arjun Jakhu reclined in his private jet, still fuming. His latest movie had been a huge success, but he was furious over the heckles and protests about his involvement. As a Bollywood producer for forty years, his movies had made billions of dollars, yet now some liberal “goras” were trying to ruin his career just because he had a bit of fun with some actresses willing to do anything for a part. And all those stories about mistreatment—utter nonsense.
“Touchdown in ten minutes, Mr. Jakhu,” his pilot announced. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, yes, where is your spirit of adventure?” mocked Jakhu.
At least he had his money, he sighed. He might not be able to make any more movies, but at seventy years old, he had a good run. Now, he wanted to spend his money in the most debauched way possible in the limited time he had left.
His plane flew low over the Egyptian city of Alexandria, on an unscheduled stop on its way from Venice back to Delhi.
________________________________________
The Borg El Arab airstrip, situated among the derelict warehouses of an abandoned industrial estate, was barely policed and poorly maintained, making for a rough landing. Located miles from Alexandria in the arid desert, it was not a place a Bollywood film producer would typically visit, except perhaps to scout for a post-apocalyptic disaster movie.
As the plane touched down, Jakhu, his pilot, and his nervous bodyguard disembarked, the engine still running. They were met by a smiling Arab man dressed in a traditional Egyptian galabeya, a long, loose-fitting robe made of light cotton fabric, perfect for the desert climate. He wore a keffiyeh, a checked cotton headdress, wrapped around his head and secured with an agal, a black cord. Clean-shaven with a dark complexion, he grinned at them.
“Hasan Al-Khitab, at your service, Mr. Jakhu. Welcome to Egypt!”
“Mr. Al-Khitab, I intend to leave Egypt and this wretched facility within half an hour,” Jakhu said, turning up his nose. “With or without the cargo. Now, where is it?”
“Follow me,” Mr. Al-Khitab said, smiling disarmingly at the pilot and bodyguard, both of whom carried guns.
“Where is Mr. Pembroke?” Jakhu asked. “I was very much looking forward to meeting this myth.”
“He is unfortunately engaged elsewhere, Mr. Jakhu,” Mr. Al-Khitab replied. “I have authority on his behalf.” He bowed slightly.
“Well, anyway, I want to see the merchandise at least!”
Mr. Al-Khitab led them to a small warehouse. Inside, they entered a hall where two other armed men stood guard, their presence immediately imposing. One was a towering figure, six feet five inches tall, with a menacing look. He was missing part of his jaw, revealing teeth beneath his Arab robe, and gripped an AK-47 with ease. The other was a shorter, but equally intimidating Arab man in a T-shirt and fatigues, also armed with an AK-47. Nearby stood a woman in an Abaya, her striking bright blue eyes adding an air of mystery and danger.
There was a small room next to them, hidden by a red curtain, which they all seemed to be guarding.
“Mr. Jakhu,” Mr. Al-Khitab announced, “I first have a few questions before I pull back this curtain. Do you have the ability to make the payment presently if we make a deal? The products will not leave this airstrip without full payment.”
“Yes, yes, I have my accountant here,” Jakhu shrugged towards his panicked associate who looked out of his depth. “He can make the transaction right here.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Al-Khitab clasped his hands together and smiled at the blue eyed woman. “In that case, Madam, why don’t you display our wares?”
The woman pulled back the curtain, revealing two women who stepped out, looking incongruous in the rough setting. They were both stunningly beautiful, with long jet-black hair, high noses, and arched black eyebrows. Their deep, mesmerizing black eyes framed perfectly by their elegant features, gave them a striking appearance. Each about five feet six, they looked like sisters.
Their slim figures were adorned in long black dresses with straps, the plunging necklines barely containing their full breasts. The slits in their dresses reached up to their hips, revealing their bronze legs underneath. Standing on high heels, their superficial elegant charm couldn’t hide the fact that they were both extremely nervous, scanning the room and looking at Mr. Jakhu with trepidation.
Al-Khitab detected a look of pleasure in Mr. Jakhu’s gaze as he walked up to them. “Very good, and can you prove they are mother and daughter? Do you have documents?” he asked Al-Khitab, running his hands over the bodies of the two women as if they were statues. The women obediently stared straight ahead, their tight smiles revealing their discomfort.
“They do not have formal documentation, and neither was educated at all. They have been issued refugee documents, which you have seen, and there are numerous press reports I sent you about their disappearance from the camp in Belarus, with many witnesses stating they are mother and daughter. And of course, there is the likeness, and the girls themselves will tell you.”
“And their ages are verified?”
“Unfortunately not exactly, though the documentation stated fifteen and thirty at the time of capture, based on their testimony and dental examination by the refugee charity. And of course, in addition to all this, we have the ladies themselves to confirm it!”
“Can they speak English?” Jakhu was inspecting the girls’ mouths now, working his fingers inside and running them along their teeth as if inspecting animals, then their ears and eyebrows. “They are very smooth, either very nice naturally, or you have done a good job with hair removal, either way … very nice…” he murmured, moving their jaws up and around, admiring their necks. They remained obediently compliant.
Al-Khitab nodded. “They speak some basic English, enough to understand simple instructions. Shall I have them speak to you now?”
Jakhu continued his inspection, satisfied with their appearance and demeanor. “Yes, let’s hear them confirm their relationship, and their ages.”
The younger woman, her voice trembling slightly, spoke first. “Yes, sir. This is my mother. I am sixteen years old.”
The older woman, her voice steadier but filled with a similar anxiety, added, “We are indeed mother and daughter, sir. I am thirty-one years old.”
Jakhu nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Very good. Very good indeed.” He walked around them, his hand trailing around their waists, pulling on their hair, and sniffing it. “Thank you for not putting make-up on them. They smell nice.” He pulled their arms up and sniffed their underarms. “Good, they are a little sweaty, but still taste nice. They will be sweating a lot in my care, so that is important.” He ran his fingers along their backs, trailing with his fingernails, and noted the girls flinched slightly but did not resist.
“You don’t have much security to bring them back with?” asked Mr. Al-Khita.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jakhu said, not even turning around, still running his fingers along their faces, dipping them inside their mouths, and sucking on his fingers. He ran his hands under their dresses and massaged their breasts. “We can control them on the plane and, on touchdown, bring them to my dungeon. They won’t be getting out much after that.”
“Excellent, the advantage these ladies have is that no one is looking for them. No families, no police. Of course, we recommend they be imprisoned for life, but you can enjoy them without fear of investigation.”
“Oh, they won’t be getting out,” laughed Jakhu, now crouching down and running his hands from their ankles up their dresses to between their legs.
The two Indian men glancing at each other were well aware of Mr. Jakhu’s disturbing predilections, having both witnessed him rape actresses on his plane and in other locations and helped cover it up and in some cases arrange a murder. But this was even stranger.
“May I see them naked? Can I order them?” Jakhu asked Al-Khita. “Of course, the ladies are trained to obey all male commands without question.”
“Well, girls, take those pretty dresses off,” said Mr. Jakhu. “Let’s see what meat I am buying.”
The women, eyes downcast, began to slowly remove their dresses. Underneath, they both wore black thongs and high heels. Their bodies were almost identical, with flat, toned stomachs, beautiful perky breasts, toned thighs and legs, and beautiful hips. They shyly stood straight, pushing their chests out and looking straight ahead.
“Amazing bodies,” whispered Jakhu. “These girls could easily be in my movies. In fact, I think they might very well be. I have a few ideas for them!”
“As I said,” Al-Khita reminded him, “they are not missed. As long as you don’t advertise their whereabouts and your ownership, there should be no problem with sharing images and movies of the girls. In fact, we would be honored if such a filmmaker as yourself might release it.” Al-Khita smiled.
“Haha, yes,” Jakhu’s eyes gleamed with lust as he roughly cupped and kneaded Farah’s breasts first, then Amina’s, clawing his fingernails down their skin and grabbing their buttocks. “It will be an interesting movie, something that not even the lowest class of Indian whore would do. Why not? If I ever tire of them, I shall make the world’s best ever family snuff movie!” He smacked Amina’s bottom hard and laughed. She gulped and tried not to cry, vaguely understanding “snuff” and knowing that they both had to entertain this man to save their lives.
“Kiss each other!” commanded Jakhu, raising an eyebrow in appreciation as the two women turned to each other and began kissing, hungrily searching each other’s mouths and clasping their hands around their bodies.
“Now remove each other’s thongs, please, and I want to see some tongue action on each other. Farah, you are the daughter? Goodness, it is so hard to tell which is which! Why don’t you pull your mother’s thong off first and let me see how you pleasure your mummy?”
Amina obediently stood with her legs spread while Farah pulled her thong down gently, allowing her to step out of it before offering it to Jakhu. “Thank you, my dear! Now, I want you to enjoy that pussy!”
Amina stood tall as Farah got between her legs and began to eat and suck her mother’s labia, and run her tongue between her lips.
“Now switch,” Jakhu commanded, impressed at the level of obedience. He turned to Al-Khita. “I could never get my actresses to do things 10% like this! Your training must have been impressive!”
Al-Khita smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Jakhu. Customer satisfaction is what we strive for. We know the importance of obedience in today’s world with women.”
“Oh yes,” Mr. Jakhu seemed lost in anger as he watched Amina, having wordlessly offered him her daughter’s knickers, go down on Farah and eat her pussy. “Bitches nowadays! It will be a nice relief to order these two around and knock them about a bit after a hard day at work, believe me!”
He turned to the girls. “Both of you bend over and arch your backs!”
The two girls touched their toes and leaned forward.
“Turn your asses to me, you stupid bitches!” Jakhu sounded exasperated. “I see they are obedient but a little stupid. I still think I shall have plenty of occasions to give them a severe beating, but that might not be a bad thing,” Jakhu smiled at Al-Khita.
“The ladies are only human,” Al-Khita smiled. “Of course, they will need correction always.”
Jakhu crouched down behind them, inspecting their ass cracks with a possessive smirk. He ran his finger along each one, then shoved it roughly into their assholes, pushing it in up to the knuckle and moving it around. Extracting his finger, he tasted it with crude satisfaction. He repeated the process with their pussies, comparing their tastes with a degrading and demeaning sneer.
“The main way you can tell who is the mother and who is the daughter is by the size of their lips,” smiled Jakhu. “Very little difference elsewhere, even in their breasts.”
“Incest is fascinating, isn’t it?” said Al-Khitab. “It is one of our main selling points; it’s so hard to find in the real world! We have matched gentlemen with cousins, sisters, aunts, and nieces, but you have the one and only mother and daughter!” Al-Khitab added with a grin.
“May I have a few moments alone with the ladies?” asked Jakhu. “Behind the curtain? I see a sofa. I would like to taste their feet and … other parts of their bodies, and see how they perform with a little privacy.”
“Oh, of course,” said Al-Khitab. “Take as long as you like,” he winked, “as long as you don’t make any permanent damage!”
“Haha,” Jakhu laughed. “No, I’m afraid at my age, with these two lovelies, it would be hard for me to hurt them myself. Although in my dungeon, I do have several interesting little items that might make some fascinating marks across their skin.” He idly ran his hands over their backs. “Just a few minutes.”
Jakhu disappeared behind the curtain with the two naked women. Al-Khitab smiled at the two nervous Indians, who just wanted to get out of there but were also distracted by the beautiful naked women, secretly hoping they might get some action on the plane home.
Behind the curtain, Jakhu’s demeanor turned even more sinister as he began his degrading inspection. “Bend over the sofa and take those high heels off. I want to lick your feet.”
They did so, and he ran his tongue over their sweaty feet, delighting in the taste. He then reached for their faces and kissed both of them.
Jakhu was seventy, white-haired, pot-bellied, and balding, with a large nose and yellow teeth. He was no one’s idea of a handsome man, standing just an inch taller than the girls.
“Now,” Jakhu said, unbuckling his trousers, “I want to test how you pleasure a man.” He dropped his trousers and pants to his ankles. Amina knelt before his cock, a measly four inches sprouting from his white pubes. She took it in her mouth, thinking of the smallest dildo she had ever sucked on the cocksucking machine. So this would be the cock she would suck for the rest of her life, she thought grimly.
“Get behind me, child,” Jakhu whispered. Farah got behind him, knowing with dread what she had to do. She knelt and parted his ass cheeks, exposing his hairy ass crack. Cupping his balls, she moved her face in against his ass and reached for his asshole with her tongue, probing in and around the anal ring while her mother sucked on his cock.
Amina used all her training and made him cum in five minutes, aided by her daughter’s probing tongue inside his fetid asshole. Both knew they had to perform to get the highest possible price for themselves, for the benefit of Pembroke, not themselves. They also knew this was a standard they would have to keep up, forever.
“Amazing” sighed Jakhu. Get my trousers back up and zip me up. And put your heels thongs and dresses back on.”
“Amazing,” sighed Jakhu. “Get my trousers back up and zip me up. And put your heels, thongs, and dresses back on.”
Jakhu walked out from behind the curtain, followed by the two somber women. He was smiling, having clarity after cumming but knowing he wanted them.
“Amazing. My compliments to Mr. Pembroke. I will take them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jakhu. Now, as we said, we consider a million dollars a reasonable price for two slaves, particularly this unique couple.”
“900,000 dollars for the pair of them,” said Jakhu. “I said I would not move beyond 700, but after viewing these girls, I can increase.”
“I have authority for 950,” said Al-Khitab.
“Done,” smiled Jakhu.
Farah and Amina, now dressed again, exchanged a look of sadness. At least they were together, albeit with an ugly, cruel man. They reached out and held each other’s hands.
“Mr. Chavda, can you wire the money now?” asked Jakhu.
“Yes, boss,” said the nervous Indian man on the laptop and phone, trying to get a signal.
“Nice tattoos,” Jakhu said, looking at the Afghans’ wrists.
“A mark of quality,” Al-Khitab said.
“You ladies will refer to me henceforth as ‘sahib,’ not ‘Master’ or ‘Sir.’ You understand?” Jakhu turned to the two women.
“Yes, sahib,” they both responded in unison.
“Good girls,” Jakhu turned to Chavda. “Are we done?”
“Yes, sir,” he responded.
“Excellent. Can you confirm, Mr. Al-Khitab?”
Al-Khitab, also known as Edward Pembroke, checked his account. “Yes, the money has gone through. It has been nice doing business with you, Mr. Jakhu.”
“Indeed. You two, it was a very pleasurable transaction. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a plane to catch,” Jakhu laughed, motioning to the waiting plane behind them. “Coming, girls?”
“Yes, master,” they both said.
“Sahib, bitches, remember!” Jakhu chastised them. He laughed back at Al-Khitab as he walked them both to the plane. “They might be well trained, but they are still women, still stupid bitches! Haha, it’s a good thing I have a birch cane on the plane. I think these girls’ bottoms are both going to get it!” Jakhu cackled as he grabbed both their asses and pushed them forward to the plane and up the steps.
The two women still kept holding each other’s hands, trying not to cry. Their grip on each other was the only thing keeping them sane.
Pembroke watched the plane slowly move along the runway, then take off, carrying his Afghan mother and daughter to their new home thousands of miles away. As he reminisced fondly about their escapades in Belarus and Poland, he couldn’t help but smile. It had been a very profitable kidnapping, he thought, as the plane disappeared into the sky.
Edward Pembroke was not a fan of Alexandria. The dirty, bustling streets with their chaotic mix of people, cars, and vendors overwhelmed him, and there were no visible females, anywhere. Seeking respite from the city’s grime and a break from his employees, he found solace in an upmarket cafe. The elegant interior, with plush seating and polished wooden tables, offered a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
Settling into a private booth lined with rich upholstery, Pembroke ordered fragrant tea and prepared a shisha pipe. The soothing smoke provided a welcome escape. Here, he could make his calls in peace, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility amidst his hectic life.
“Ah, Dr. Ivanov,” said Pembroke as he returned the doctor’s call. “I trust everything is in order.”
“Of course, Mr. Pembroke. I just wanted to thank you! For obvious reasons, I have no one else to share my news with about young Yasmina, but it has been a wonderful few days with her!”
“I hope you remember your Hippocratic Oath,” Pembroke smiled over the phone, half joking and half wanting to change the subject.
“Just some exploratory surgery, nothing beyond my expertise!” said the good doctor. “I have made some very interesting notes. How I will explain my findings, though, may be an issue,” Ivanov laughed.
At that moment, a waiter brought a plate of skewered lamb, and Pembroke suddenly lost his appetite.
“I never knew Arabic was such an expressive language,” Dr. Ivanov marveled down the phone with a voice of enthusiasm. “I learned so many phrases. I had to record answers to my questions from her, of course. Who would have thought there would be so many phrases for begging for mercy!” he chuckled. “I am learning as much about Arabic as about female anatomy.”
“Well, as long as you are happy with the product, Dr. Ivanov,” Pembroke said, wanting desperately to enjoy the folds of lamb in front of him. He did not want thoughts of Yasmina’s screams and skewered flesh disrupting the enjoyment of his meal, which he had been looking forward to for days.
“I am afraid I am too happy, Mr. Pembroke. I do have a confession to make, one that I can only share with you,” Dr. Ivanov sounded uneasy on the phone. “I have betrayed my wife, Lydia, with Yasmina. I succumbed to her beauty and had my way with her. My interests in her were always more than anatomical.”
“As long as you don’t fall in love with Yasmina, remember your duties to your wife!”
“Oh, of course,” the doctor sounded annoyed. “I blame myself, but the subject must be accountable too. I punish Yasmina each time it happens. The female of the species is always guilty for the male’s mistakes; that is what years of medical study have taught me!”
“An excellent philosophy, my dear doctor,” Pembroke laughed.
“Well, thank you again. Perhaps soon I will be requesting further subjects. I just have to make sure Lydia does not notice the money flowing out. You know how women care about money, but you cannot bring it with you when you die!”
“No, of course not,” Pembroke smiled. “It seems you are combining pleasure with scientific discovery, and so I must applaud you, Doctor!”
As Pembroke savored the meat with his steak knife, his mind drifted to the taste of Yasmina between her thighs, her tender folds reminiscent of the delicate flavors on his plate.
________________________________________
The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, casting long, dancing shadows on the worn carpet. Lila Kovacs was awake, the weight of the previous days bearing down on her. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the memory of groping hands over her body and leering eyes a persistent nightmare. The thought of leaving Egypt was the only thing keeping her sane.
Katalin, on the other hand, was already up, the spirit of adventure ignited by the new day. She hummed a tune as she came out of the shower, her towel barely covering her body, the robbery a distant memory.
Lila pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, growing increasingly uncomfortable with her aunt’s willingness to parade around naked. Katalin, oblivious to her friend’s discomfort, launched into a detailed plan for the day, including a visit to the “swimmer’s cave,” a little-known cave without many tourists owing to its remote location, two hours’ drive from their hotel in Alexandria. It had been recommended to her by Edward Pembroke, unspoiled and deserted, appealing to Katalin’s sense of adventure.
“Lila, darling, come on! It’ll be fun. We have an old camera so we can still take pictures. Don’t worry, just enjoy a little freedom without our phones for once,” Katalin said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Lila forced a smile. “I’m not really in the mood for this, Katalin,” she replied, her voice flat. “I’ve had enough of being touched up by dirty Egyptian men. I just want to stay in until our flight tomorrow,” Lila said, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t take much more of this.”
“Come on, Lila, you just need to get away from your phone for a day. That robbery could be the best thing to happen to you! You’ll get a new one back in Hungary, don’t worry. I spent years without a smartphone as a teenager traveling around the world. You need to get that freedom and experience real life.”
“How can you say that?” Lila sobbed quietly. “Those men, they touched me … in places … its ok for you you’ve slept with hundreds of men but I’m a virgin! And without our phones, how are my parents supposed to know I’m okay?”
“Lila stop being such a baby!” Katalin snapped at her. “This cave won’t have lots of people, Lila. It will be a peaceful, perfect end to the trip.”
“Another tomb full Arab gropers and pickpockets that doesn’t even have a listing on any tourist website? No thanks. Katalin, your life is a mess, and this is why. Even that guy Edward is playing you. If that necklace he gave you is so valuable, why were the thieves so uninterested in it when they even wanted your smartwatch on your wrist?”
“Shut up, Lila,” said Katalin, fingering her necklace, genuinely hurt. “Now get ready and stop being such a spoiled little brat!”
“I can’t wait for this holiday to be over,” moaned Lila in a huff as she changed into the hated Egyptian clothing, which did not seem to do anything to deter the hands that crawled all over her on the streets.
Katalin, frustrated with Lila’s attitude, snapped, “You need to stop acting like a child and start appreciating the world around you. Not everything is perfect, but this is an adventure!”
________________________________________
Tarek El-Sayed waited outside the hotel, his eyes scanning the bustling street. His phone had been stolen by a pickpocket just minutes before the arranged meeting time with the two tourists. He was annoyed, but the prospect of easy money kept him there. He needed this job, and he wasn’t about to tell them that the swimmer’s cave they were so eager to visit was nothing more than an empty quarry with a brief period of interest from archaeologists a few years ago.
At exactly 10 a.m., Katalin and Lila emerged from the hotel. Tarek forced a smile, waving them over. “Hello, hello! Ready for the cave adventure?” he said in broken English.
Katalin beamed. “Yes, very ready! We are so excited! Yesterday, we had our phones stolen, so we are dependent on you today!”
Tarek chuckled, nodding. “Don’t worry, I know the way. I am without phone, but I don’t need one. Pickpockets got me too, just now. Egypt … phones disappear very easily. Now all three victims,” he said, his laughter masking his irritation.
Lila managed a weak smile, still uneasy about the trip. They climbed into Tarek’s car, and he began the drive to the cave. As they left the city behind, the conversation was light, filled with shared frustration over their lost phones.
“How did it happen to you, Tarek?” Katalin asked, genuinely curious.
“Pickpocket,” Tarek replied, shaking his head. “Very quick, very skilled. One moment there, next gone.”
Katalin laughed. “Seems like we’re all in the same boat. Hopefully, this cave is worth it!”
Tarek smiled, though his eyes held a hint of deception. “Yes, yes. Very worth it.”
As they drove on, Lila stared out the window, hoping this day would pass quickly. Katalin chatted enthusiastically with Tarek, unaware of his true thoughts about the cave. To Tarek, they were just easy money, and he was determined to get through the day without any more trouble.
________________________________________
“Just ten more minutes, then we get to the cave,” said Tarek, preoccupied with how to sell the ‘cave’ to them. He did not want to admit that he knew it was a worthless quarry, but Katalin seemed so upbeat she might fool herself.
Lila had been fed up after days of bustling streets and lecherous and predatory men propositioning her, following her, and touching her in streets filled with filth. But now, she had barely seen another car or person for nearly two hours and was a bit worried about the constant desert landscape.
“Come on, Lila,” Katalin squeezed her hand. “This is what memories are made of!”
Suddenly, there was a bump, and the car veered to the side of the road. “Damn! Tire puncture,” Tarek cursed in Arabic and English.
Katalin’s eyes widened. “Oh no, are we stuck?”
Tarek pulled over and got out of the car, muttering under his breath. He examined the tire and then looked back at the women. “Yes, tire flat. I fix, but it take some time.”
Lila glanced around nervously. “Great, just great,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “Stranded in the middle of nowhere.”
Katalin, always the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. “Well, it’s part of the adventure, right? We can handle this. Maybe there’s something interesting nearby while Tarek fixes the tire.”
Tarek, however, was more preoccupied with the fact that the tire seemed to have been completely destroyed by something more than just a puncture.
“Ladies…,” Tarek began. Katalin and Lila turned to see a look of alarm on his face. Just then, a jet of blood flew out from the side of his head, and he collapsed on the ground, dead.
Both girls screamed and froze, looking around in terror, seeing and hearing nothing. Suddenly, two figures jumped up from the ground, having been camouflaged. They appeared to be soldiers, holding guns with masks, sunglasses, and camouflage.
“Don’t move!” came a shout with an Arabic accent.
The girls hugged each other, crying, “Please don’t kill us, we don’t have anything!”
The sound of a car erupted from somewhere, and as the two men leveled their guns at them, the girls turned to see a Toyota pickup truck kicking up dust and driving toward them from the desert, away from the deserted highway. The lone driver stopped, got out, and, also masked with sunglasses, spoke with an Arabic accent. “Keep still,” he barked, issuing commands in Arabic. The two other men frisked the terrified women, who were both sobbing. Lila had thought she had experienced groping in the last week, but this was nothing compared to the rough hands ripping off her garments and running under the elastic of her underwear, over her bare skin, even through her hair.
The two were cuffed at the ankles and wrists, wrists behind their backs, and tied around their necks with cord from wrists to their necks. Gags and blindfolds were placed on them. The men carried both of them to the Toyota truck and placed them under a series of carpets.
Tarek’s body was placed in his car, which was tied with a chain to the Toyota and towed off the road onto the desert paths, roughly.
After a mile of driving, they came to a newly dug hole in the ground and stopped. Tarek’s body was thrown in and covered with earth. They continued until they reached some rocks and abandoned the ruined car behind them, hidden from the highway. Then they drove back to the highway, making the long drive back to Alexandria.
________________________________________
Lila and Katalin had not been able to see or communicate with each other for hours in the truck. They could only hear the sounds of engines and the babble of men speaking in Arabic. They moved closer under the carpets, finding comfort in each other’s familiar scents, rubbing their heads together in a desperate attempt to find solace. Were they being kidnapped for ransom, by religious fanatics intending to cut off their heads? Or was it something even darker?
They were carried within the carpets, hearing the sound of the ocean above the din of engines and street life. Soon, they felt the unmistakable rhythm of the sea moving beneath them. After what felt like an eternity, they were finally pulled from the carpets, the oppressive fabric lifted off them. They were roughly pulled to their feet, disoriented and anxious.
Their blindfolds and gags were pulled off. It was nighttime, cool, with the moon illuminating their surroundings. They found themselves on a boat in the middle of the sea, both naked and exposed. Before them stood four people: three men and a woman. The woman, blonde and impassive, wore nothing but a white robe dress, her demeanor submissive.
The two men appeared to be the same gunmen who had originally captured them. One was enormous, with a deformed face, half his lower jaw missing, and only one eye. His muscular frame was intimidating. The other man was of normal build, both Arab-looking, now shirtless, wearing only shorts and barefoot. The girls, still bound with their wrists behind their backs and ankles, exchanged terrified glances.
Even more formidable was a tall man, about six feet tall, wearing a baseball cap that cast a shadow over his face. He was shirtless, dressed only in cargo pants, barefoot, and lounged casually against the rail of the boat. His relaxed posture belied the control he seemed to exert over the situation.
“How was the Cave of Swimmers, Katalin?” the figure asked suddenly, his impeccable English accent cutting through the silence.
“What—?” Katalin stammered, her voice shaking with confusion and fear. She glanced at Lila, whose wide eyes mirrored her own shock.
The man in the baseball cap straightened up from his lounging position, stepping forward into the moonlight but still keeping his face shadowed. “I’m sorry I remembered, we intercepted you on the way—no matter, there was nothing interesting there.” He turned to Lila. “Your aunt has a terrible idea about holiday plans, Lila. She has placed you in so much danger.”
Katalin struggled to comprehend the situation, her mind racing. “How do you know about that?” she managed to whisper.
“Not just holiday advice, but career advice too,” the man chuckled, enjoying the atmosphere. “Mrs. Parker, bring out Ayesha and Linh.”
Katalin blanched at the familiar names. Lila looked at her aunt, seeking some explanation.
Mrs. Parker prodded two girls out of the cabin. They were both naked, both shackled at the ankles, wrists behind their backs, and neck collars, metallic ball gags in their mouths. As they were led out of the darkness, Katalin recognized them with horror. Their eyes were full of terror and swollen, black from presumably being assaulted. They looked even more frightened than she.
“Katalin, what is going on?” Lila whimpered to her aunt. “Who are these people? Why are we here?”
Katalin’s heart sank, unable to find the words. She looked at the man again, trying to rule out a horrible conclusion forming in her mind. She could not see his face, but the voice, the girls…
“Ed … Edward,” she said in the smallest voice she could muster. “Edward, is it you?”
Pembroke finally stepped forward and took his cap off, grinning as he watched the awe-struck face of Katalin. He brought his fingers to her necklace. “This was expensive, Katalin, but very invaluable in tracing you. You will forgive me for taking it back; I will certainly be using it on another girl soon.”
Katalin’s skin grew cold. The man she loved, fantasized about, had not just fooled her around, or even betrayed her; he had manipulated her from the start, and not just her. Her niece, and the two other girls—he had used her to get all four of them.
She felt a wave of nausea and disbelief. The depths of Pembroke’s deceit were staggering, and the realization that she had been a pawn in his sick game left her feeling utterly devastated. “How could you?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Who are you? What are you?”
Pembroke’s grin widened. “It’s nothing personal, Katalin. Just business. I am a slaver. I recruit beautiful young women for the wealthy men who rise to the top of society and who want to indulge their evil tastes. What do you think paid for all those evenings out or that necklace? Oh, and when we first met, what do you think was within each of those seven black boxes on the plane?”
Katalin’s eyes widened in horror as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The luxurious dates, the expensive gifts, the seemingly endless resources—everything suddenly made a terrible kind of sense.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How could you do this to people? To me?”
Pembroke shrugged, still grinning. “It’s simple, really. There’s a demand, and I supply it. You were just another part of the business, Katalin. You and your niece and these other girls will make me a lot of money.”
Lila’s sobs broke through the tension, her body shaking with fear and disbelief. “Please, let us go,” she begged, her voice small and desperate.
Pembroke’s expression hardened. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Lila. Demand has been outstripping supply recently, and I have a buyer very interested in you, who may surprise you.”
Katalin’s heart sank further. “Who?” she asked, though part of her dreaded the answer.
Pembroke chuckled darkly, then suddenly slapped her across the face, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of her and leaving her stunned. “That is not your concern,” he sneered. “Your only concern will be to serve, be obedient, and satisfy me during your training at our complex. Then, you will justify your price tag to your new owner.”
Katalin gasped, the stinging pain and humiliation adding to her mounting fear. Lila cried out, and Pembroke slapped her as well. The sight of her niece’s distress only fuelled Katalin’s desperation, but there was little she could do.
Pembroke’s voice turned cold and commanding. “Remember, any defiance will be met with severe punishment. Your life as you knew it is over. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you.”
Pembroke turned to his associates and the other two girls, who stared at the ground, cursing Katalin silently for being so foolish as to have accidentally tricked them into slavery along with herself. They were well aware that what had just been done to the newcomers was nothing compared to what they had endured for days at sea.
“Fresh meat,” grinned Nadim, breaking the silence and leering at Lila.
Lila shrank back, her eyes wide with terror, her breasts pushed out prominently by her binds behind her back, rising and falling with quick breaths. The cool air sharpened her nipples, and suddenly, a chilling realization dawned on her—the true horror of their situation sank in. As a virgin, the thought of what was going to physically happen to her filled her with sudden nausea, the dread of it possibly happening now twisting like a cold knife in her gut. Nadim’s eyes roved up and down her body, his gaze lingering hungrily, making her feel exposed and already violated.
“Jamal, for your marksmanship, you can have Lila first. Nadim, for your help, you can have Lila’s asshole afterwards. It’s important she has variety. I have already used you, Katalin, so much, and it’s been great fun, but never your asshole. Nadim, you can have that first too.”
The girls’ eyes widened in horror, and their bodies jerked upward in fright. “No, Edward, just keep us prisoner, don’t do anything yet, please, we can work this out,” Katalin pleaded desperately. “At least leave Lila, she is a virgin. Let your men have me instead.”
“You don’t have any bargaining power, Katalin,” Pembroke said in a bored manner. “But Jamal does have rather a large manhood.” At that moment, Jamal took his shorts off, and Lila screamed at the sight of his semi-erect penis springing out. Pembroke looked at Katalin. “See how scared your niece is, Katalin? It’s your fault she is here, your fault she is going to have this done to her. I think you can do something for her though, and I insist you do. You will use your tongue on your niece to get her holes ready for my men.”
“NO! Fuck you!” Katalin nearly vomited at the realization of the vile piece of shit this man truly was. She screamed an obscenity, and cried, then seeing Jamal totally naked, and understanding the depth of her own negligence and fault for all these girls, she screamed again in despair. She felt like a complete failure. In a desperate bid, she leaned back and threw herself over the edge of the yacht.
The men on the yacht ran forward in surprise, shouting as Katalin hit the water with a splash. Pembroke thought quickly, threw down a lifebuoy, grabbed a rope, and jumped into the water after her. He swam with strong, determined strokes, his eyes locked on Katalin as she flailed in the cold water.
Pembroke grabbed her under her breasts and pulled her back while holding on to the rope and keeping his arm around the buoy. Katalin couldn’t move her arms to resist and just choked on the saltwater as they moved back to the yacht. Pembroke ran the rope between her ankle cuffs and then threw both ends up to the men, who pulled her up upside down like a fish and got her onto the deck.
She lay there, gasping for breath, water streaming from her hair and body. Pembroke climbed back onto the yacht, dripping wet but with a triumphant sneer on his face.
“You thought you could get away?” he hissed, leaning down close to her face. “No one escapes from me. You do not make the choice of when your life ends; only I or your owner decides when and how it happens.”
The four females were pulled below deck into the main lounge. Lila’s ankles were uncuffed and she was pushed onto the sofa, her legs spread, her wrists still bound behind her back. The sight of her aunt nearly dying and betraying her by trying to kill herself—abandoning her without even helping—combined with the helplessness and terror, made her resigned to her fate.
Nice,” Pembroke ran his fingers between her legs and brought them to his mouth. “Lila, you really are gorgeous. I am going to enjoy you, but first,” he motioned to Katalin. “Katalin, get that salty tongue between your niece’s thighs. “You don’t want her first time to be painful. Use that tongue and get her juices flowing.”
“I’m sorry, Lila,” Katalin said as she got on her hands and knees in front of Lila. While her ankles were now unfettered, she could spread her knees to support herself. Her wrists still tied, she rested her chin on the sofa right in front of Lila’s splayed thighs, Lila’s privates displayed against Katalin’s mouth and nose.
“It’s okay, Aunt Katalin, it’s not your fault,” Lila sobbed as she looked down at her Aunt’s despairing face, her nose disappearing under Lila’s pubic hair, her blonde hair splayed around her thighs tickling her inner thighs.
“Get that tongue moving, Katalin!” Pembroke demanded as he casually groped Lila’s breast. Katalin had a great appetite for sex but had never been with a woman, and had never dreamt her first lesbian experience would be at forty with he own niece, under duress. She ran her tongue along Lila’s pussy among the sparse dark hairs surrounding it, feeling the shudder in the young girl’s soft inner thighs pressed against either side of her face.
“Now, Linh and Ayesha, Katalin here is someone you respected and someone who brought you here. You should respect her and show her some appreciation,” Pembroke said mockingly, aware that Katalin had been used to deceive the girls into being trafficked. He released their ankle cuffs and forced them to their knees, their wrists still painfully bound behind their backs, and removed their gags. “As a sign of respect for the elder woman here, I want you to lick her feet. Each of you, pick one and lick.”
Ayesha and Linh exchanged a glance, understanding this was not negotiable. They lowered themselves until their faces touched the floor, crawling forward until they reached the older woman’s feet. Each girl’s mouth found a sole, and they began obediently licking, tasting the lingering saltwater on her skin.
Katalin jumped at the licks on her feet. Pembroke’s voice cut through her shock. “Now, now, Katalin, focus on Lila’s pussy. It needs to be opened up like a flower.” Pembroke looked around. “Where is Zeynip?”
“She is locked in the compartment, Master.” said Mrs. Parker.
“Bring her out.”
Zeynip was brought out, gagged, bound, shackled, one of her eyes now swollen shut from a black eye, a result of one of the many punishments she had endured. She was dismayed to see that two more girls had now been added to Pembroke’s horrific catch. The depraved scene unfolded before her: a naked girl bound and seated on the sofa with her legs spread wide, an older woman kneeling before her, her face between the younger girl’s legs, and Ayesha and Linh licking the older woman’s feet.
“Zeynip, I think you also need to respect your elders. Get behind Katalin and plant your tongue on her pussy and bring her some pleasure,” Pembroke commanded.
Zeynip knew better than to complain. She had been forced to pleasure both Ayesha and Linh on the boat in the horrific days following her capture. She crawled towards the upturned buttocks of the new woman, venturing close to the pussy and asshole in front of her. With no arms free to support herself, she rested her face in the ass crack and began licking, looking out over Katalin’s tailbone at the new girl seated on the sofa as her “Master” rubbed her breasts.
“Move your legs up a bit, Lila, let your Aunt have access to your bumhole.” He pulled her thighs up a bit to help her. He looked down at Katalin’s disgusted face. “You see, Nadim, here, he has a curious thing for young girls’ bottoms. He has rather a large manhood but also likes to explore their asses with his hands. So you will need to work that tongue inside there to prepare her. Come on Katalin, you will be doing this a lot in your new life, you need to get used to it, at least for now think of it as a favour to your niece.”
Katalin’s stomach churned with disgust, both at the degradation of sticking her tongue into Lila’s anus in front of them, the shame of doing it to the girl she had thought of as a mentee until today, and the sound of the voice of Edward Pembroke, the devil incarnate, the destroyer of all her dreams and bringer of nightmares.
Pembroke moved along Katalin’s back, running his hand over her spine, skipping over her wrists, and down between her buttocks as he pulled back Zeynep’s hair. The poor Turkish girl obediently licked Katalin’s pussy, her swollen eye a stark testament to her ordeal. Pembroke gently fingered the bruised area.
“Mrs. Parker, how did Zeynep get this mark?” he asked, his voice dripping with feigned concern.
“I am sorry, Master. We were below deck, feeding Zeynep, and when I took the gag off, she tried to scream for help. Master, I am sure no one could have heard her, but I struck her to stop her before regagging her. Master, I am sorry for marking her, your property.”
“No no, Mrs. Parker, you did well.” Pembroke moved his hand to Zeynep’s upturned rump and spanked her. “Naughty girl, Zeynep. I hope you won’t be trouble. How much pain and misery you have in this life will depend on your obedience, so no calling for help or any silly antics like that.” He ran his fingers along her pussy and rubbed them over her anus, noticing the blood marks around it. “I see your bumhole has taken some pounding already. In solidarity, Zeynep, I want you to lick Katalin’s bumhole as well. Get your tongue inside it, loosen it up. It will be taking a lot of cock tonight, so get her ready!”
Pembroke sat back and enjoyed the spectacle, the five shackled naked females in a phalanx of pussy, ass, and feet licking while Lila kept her thighs up in the air, eyes closed, tears falling down her face and trickling down her breasts. He, Nadim, and Jamal were now relieved of their shorts, naked, and passing around a bottle of whiskey.
“Let’s hope this boat sails itself,” Pembroke laughed, slapping Lingh hard on the ass after seeing she was slacking off on the foot licking. The men continued to revel in their depravity, utterly oblivious to the suffering of the women they had imprisoned.
Finally, Jamal said, “Boss, I can’t wait, I need to fuck this blonde bitch,” leering at Lila.
“You earned it, Jamal,” Pembroke laughed. “You blew that guy’s head up like a balloon.” His laughter was cruel, echoing in the dimly lit cabin.
Katalin continued licking, her mind racing. She vividly remembered the brutal murder of their guide, Tarek, and she dreaded the fate that poor Lila would now suffer. Each moment felt like an eternity, but there seemed nothing that could be done except just suffer and stop them hurting either of them.
Jamal pushed Katalin off Lila and brought his body between Lila’s pussy and Katalin’s mouth, lining up his cock with Lila’s pussy. “Who told you to stop licking ass, bitch?” he snarled over his shoulder. “Keep licking.” He leaned over and his ass pushed out into Katalin’s face.
“Linh, get your mouth off her foot, and ensure Katalin complies with what was ordered,” Pembroke drawled. “Push her face against his ass. Girls, let this be a lesson: obey when a man orders you to do something. Katalin, I will remember your hesitation when the time comes to punish you.”
“Master,” Linh cried, “my hands are tied.”
Pembroke sighed and uncuffed one of her hands, leaving the other still attached to the cord around her neck, so it dangled down her back, bent at the elbow. With her free hand planted on the ground to help herself, she tried to crawl comically with one hand, then using it to hold Katalin by the hair and push her face between Jamal’s buttocks, while leaning her face against her back.
Katalin, partly out of the knowledge that resistance was useless and that Linh would only be punished along with her for not complying, pushed her face into the meaty, hot ass crack of the giant Syrian. She shut her eyes tight and probed with her tongue to find his asshole, her mind screaming in protest.
Meanwhile, Jamal was rubbing his cockhead up and down Lila’s pussy, staring into her terrified green eyes, stroking her beautiful face. Lila looked back at the deformed monstrosity in front of her. His glass eye, huge nose, missing jawline, and burned flesh made it seem like a huge animal was about to eat her alive.
“When you came on this holiday, did you think you would lose your virginity to a man like me?” taunted Jamal as he kissed her.
Lila tried to block out Jamal’s grotesque features and the cruel words he whispered, but she could not block out the eruption of pressure as his cock pushed into her vagina, her walls opening up and expanding to meet the alien invasion. As it ventured further in, she screamed into his mouth, the sound escaping through the hole in the side of his jaw.
Katalin kept at her duty, knowing there was nothing she could do to save Lila now. She could only hope her tongue in her rapist’s asshole might make him cum quicker. Her jaw was getting tired from suspending her face between his ass cheeks without aid from her arms and only Linh’s singular hand, but she kept at it despite Jamal moving his huge buttocks back and forth against her head.
The situation was a grotesque blend of horrors, with Zeynep’s tongue in her asshole and Ayesha bringing excruciating sensations by licking her foot. Katalin’s mind screamed in protest, her body aching from the unnatural position and the dehumanizing act she was forced to perform.
“It hurts, it fucking hurts!” screamed Lila, but the noise only turned Jamal on even more. And not just Jamal. Nadim grabbed a bottle of rum, took a huge gulp, and moved over to slap Zeynep’s face away from Katalin’s ass, sending her sprawling and rolling on the ground until she landed at Pembroke’s feet.
Pembroke laughed, showing no sympathy. Instead, he pulled Zeynep up by the hair. “Enough pussy, Zeynep, have some cock,” he sneered, forcing his erect cock into her mouth, raising her to her knees and making her suck him.
Nadim uncuffed Ayesha and pulled her off Katalin’s foot. He then lined himself up behind Katalin’s pussy, grabbed her hips, and forced himself inside her, roaring in triumph. Grabbing Ayesha by the hair to face him as he pumped Katalin, he spat on her face violently.
“Get behind me and lick my asshole, bitch!” he commanded.
Ayesha, her eyes wide with fear and revulsion, hesitated for a moment before moving behind him, her body shaking. She wiped the alcohol-infused spit from her face, then placed her hands on the quickly moving buttocks in front of her. She moved her face to the ass crack, trying to match the rhythm of Nadim’s thrusts while making her tongue stick to his asshole.
The room was a hellish scene of abuse and degradation. Mrs. Parker sat by herself, still reeling from being outside the complex and so close to “normal life,” feeling awful that she had not done more to escape or try and help any of the poor girls, including the Afghans, come close to being rescued. She sat obediently as the boat rocked gently in the Mediterranean night, the sounds of the sea a cruel contrast to the horrors within.
________________________________________
Dmitri arrived to meet the large party at Karatas. Mrs. Parker found herself escorted off the boat and onto the back of the truck almost like, if not a lady, an actual human being. The five other females arrived in one giant crate, roughly shackled and piled on top of each other within it. They were taken to the complex and inducted in front of the cell of girls.
The disheveled, injured, bruised, and marked appearance of the new girls, some limping from their sore assholes, made the cell girls realize these newcomers had already experienced a lot of what life was going to be like as slaves. An hour-long display was prepared for the newcomers by Mrs. Al-Haraz, wearing a PVC costume consisting of a black thong, bra, thigh-high boots, and a balaclava mask with a hole for her hair, which she liked for its sinister look. It also served to hide the fact half her head was a seared mess of burned skin.
The Yemeni overseer brought the girls out to face the newcomers, who were, as tradition dictated, kneeling opposite them as an audience, in shackles, watching the girls whose lives they would have to emulate.
The commands, based on letters of the Arabic alphabet, were well memorized and drilled, executed with the precision and excellence of an Olympic ceremony.
“Alif,” Mrs. Al-Haraz commanded. The girls moved suddenly, adopting a squatting position on tiptoes, hands behind their heads, staring straight ahead.
“Jim,” she barked. The girls turned their backs to their audience, got down on all fours, and moved the fingers of their right hands into their pussies, massaging them.
“Kha,” she ordered. The eleven girls immediately paired off into pairs and moved seamlessly into 69 positions along a line, gracefully. The eleventh, Elira, performed a short dance in front of them while chanting a mantra to the newcomers.
“We are slaves, we are our Masters’ property. We exist to serve, to obey, to be used. Our pain is our Masters’ pleasure, our bodies are our Masters’ tools. We submit, we comply, we surrender.”
The display was both humiliating and dehumanizing, intended to break the spirits of the newcomers and show them the extent of their subjugation. The existing slaves moved with practiced grace, their faces a mask of stoic obedience. Each command from Mrs. Al-Haraz was met with immediate compliance. It stretched for an hour and impressed everyone with how flawless it was, with the stoic performance of the girls continuing despite their exertion and sweat dripping off their bodies. Only the cane marks on the backs of some of the girls, varying in texture and severity, hinted at how Mrs. Al-Haraz had perfected such admirable discipline and performance over the last week.
The new arrivals watched in a mixture of horror and resignation, realizing the extent of control and brutality they would soon face. Their future was laid bare before them in that hour, each minute a stark reminder of the suffering and submission that awaited them. The cell grew quiet as the display concluded, the heavy atmosphere filled with unspoken dread and the faint echoes of the mantra that now defined their existence.
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